


Fabrication

by evangelinerose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 75,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21874225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evangelinerose/pseuds/evangelinerose
Summary: You never had any interest in navigating the muddy waters of the Pureblood aristocracy. But shortly before your sixteenth birthday and your return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, your parents give you terrible news and a nasty surprise, pulling you unwillingly (and literally screaming) into Pureblood politics. Luckily, Draco Malfoy swoops in to help. 6th year, Slytherin!Pureblood!Reader, Fake Dating AU.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy/Female Reader, Draco Malfoy/Reader, Draco Malfoy/You, Mrs Zabini/Original Female Character(s), Theodore Nott/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 218
Kudos: 688





	1. Fabrication

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF WARNINGS IN THE NOTES on each chapter if that is important to you while you read, but here is a general overview of themes/info/warnings for this fic:
> 
> This is a fun, fluffy dramedy, a 6th year Fake Dating AU. It is AU because there is no Voldemort, so the Slytherins/Pureblood families aren’t so much blood prejudiced as they are like modern day snooty & rich noble families whose lineage is important to them. That being said there are some serious tones/themes. So, main warnings for this story are: 1) heavy/sensitive themes in regards to abusive family members, both mental and physical, 2) language, and 3) sexual themes and such, though nothing explicit. The first chapter contains all these warnings.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, don't forget to comment <3

You eyed yourself critically in the mirror, twirling once to see how the dress swished out nicely around the hips. 

It was comfortable, at least. That couldn’t be said for most of the things that your mother bought you. Her philosophy was fashion over comfort, and the high heels you were currently being forced to wear were a testament to this very fact.

You hated heels. You still didn’t know how to walk in them, mostly because you had never bothered to practice often like your good female friends, Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson. Sometimes you felt envious of the way they both could handle even the tallest heels with such grace.

Your mother had spent almost an entire hour in front of your face, dabbing on makeup for this “special” dinner. 

Personally, you didn’t see what was so special about it. They were just inviting over some of the regular Pureblood families – including the Parkinsons, Greengrasses, and the Malfoys, so at least you would have your three closest friends to keep you company that evening – but apparently the big fuss was some other high-end Pureblood family that was coming from the Netherlands.

“You’d best be on your most ladylike and proper behavior tonight,” your mother had warned, as she patted blush on your cheeks. “This is an important meeting.”

For parties like this it was common for your mother to come up into your room and doll you up before leaving to let you change (into the exact outfit she had picked, of course, no exceptions). 

The experience was its own special kind of hell. Tonight was no different; except, of course, that the makeup she had put on you was dark, dramatic, even seductive. She seemed to be trying to make you look much older than fifteen.

The door opened with a soft click, and your mother strode in, her high heels clicking quickly and expertly across the marble floor of your bedroom. She looked as glamorous as ever. She was, of course, very good friends with Esmeralda Zabini, your friend Blaise’s mother, and you swore that the two of them spent almost all of their waking hours on enhancing their looks or _shopping_ to enhance their looks. She stopped in front of you, eyes sweeping you from head to toe as she carefully examined your appearance. You felt a sudden dropping sensation in the pit of your stomach in anticipation of what was coming.

She sighed, loudly. “Well, the makeup is stunning; at least, considering what I have to work with. And the dress is very tasteful.” She ran her hands thoughtfully over the material, still scanning you with her lips pursed. “No hips, of course, but the dress at least enhances your less than average chest.” She sighed again and took a step back, nodding at you and throwing up her hands. “Well, I’ve done the best I can do with you. This will have to do.”

Something in your chest tightened and your stomach twisted, as it always did with any interaction with your mother. Or your father, for that matter.

“I’m only fifteen,” you said, stiffly.

“You can at least try to walk in a way that’s far more comely for a woman, can’t you?” your mother went on, frowning and still appraising you with those eagle eyes. “Move those nonexistent hips a little when you walk, and for Merlin’s sake, try _not_ to look like an awkward ape in those high heels. It’s high time you learned to walk in them without embarrassing your father and I at these parties, Y/N.”

Your fists curled into balls at your side, and you felt the telltale stinging of tears in your eyes, but you weren’t about to let them fall. You’d only get a lecture about your makeup, and anyway, you were used to this by now.

“Remind me again why this party is so important?”

Your mother rose an eyebrow at the sass in your tone. “I told you. The Van Adels are coming tonight – ”

“And exactly who the fuck are the Van Adels?” you asked brusquely, cutting her off. “And why should I care about them coming?”

Her hand lashed out and popped you on the mouth, so hard that you let out a little gasp of pain and covered it immediately with your hand, glaring at her as more tears sprang into your eyes at the smarting feeling on your lips. 

“Language!” your mother snapped, eyes narrowed in impatience and anger. “The Van Adels are an extremely powerful Pureblood family from the Netherlands – they even have political connections to Muggle royalty there, so you _will_ behave yourself tonight or you will be very sorry indeed. This is by far your most important dinner, do you understand me, Y/N?”

Fixing her with a surly glare, you just nod, dropping your hand from your mouth even though it was still stinging from her smack.

“Be down in five minutes, the guests will start arriving any minute now,” your mother said briskly, before turning away dismissively. She paused at door, however, and turned once more to bark, “And practice walking!”

With that, she pulled the door closed, leaving you to try and pull your emotions together before you had to leave your room to socialize for what was sure to be a very long evening. At least your friends would be there. 

It would make it bearable, at least.

Oh, how very wrong you were.

————————————————————————

You were infinitely glad to see that the first family to arrive were the Greengrasses, and that they were already in the parlor when you descended the stairs. This meant that you would not also have to deal with your father’s running commentary about your evening attire or your ineptitude in heels.

Daphne’s parents were nothing like yours. Like all Pureblood women, Daphne’s mother was regal and proper, but she was not cold or cruel, and you could always count on her to say something kind to you. Daphne’s father, too, was a jovial sort of man, always making self-deprecating jokes about his growing belly and warming any room with his booming laugh. It was only Daphne tonight; perhaps thirteen year old Astoria had wanted to stay home, and unlike your parents, Daphne’s didn’t always force these sorts of things.

“There she is!” Daphne’s father exclaimed cheerfully as you made your way to the group. “Y/N, my, my!”

“You are such a darling,” Daphne’s mother added, smiling warmly at you and bending to kiss both cheeks as expected.

“Thank you,” you said politely, and then turned to grin at Daphne. Since the parents were standing right here and this was a formal party, you both kissed each other’s cheeks as well. Daphne, as always, was absolutely beautiful in a dress of aqua green. Daphne was the epitome of a Pureblood woman, or that was what your father and mother always liked to tell you, anyway. She was thin, but not overly so; tall, but still smaller than the boys her age; delicate, perfect manners, perfect bone structure, and the face of a literal goddess.

Your mother would probably kill to have her as a daughter.

The adults suggested that you go off to the “young person parlor” – which was essentially a living room that was adjacent to this very entry room, where you often hung out with your friends when the lot of you didn’t have to be around the adults – and you and Daphne were quick to comply, before they changed their minds and decided that you needed to go into the kitchen with them.

“The Van Adels will be arriving much later, of course…” you heard your mother explaining as the group walked off, and you rolled your eyes.

As you flopped onto one of the leather sofas with a complete lack of grace, you groaned and threw Daphne a significant look. “I hate this.”

She observed you sympathetically. “What did she say this time?”

“Tried to make me look thirty, first of all,” you said, pointing at your face laden with makeup and giving Daphne a stony look, and she giggled. “Then threw in as many thinly veiled insults as possible, as usual. ‘ _The makeup looks good, considering what I have to work with_ ,’” you mimicked, and then you smirked, because it was better than crying. “I also distinctly remember the words _awkward_ and _ape_ being strung together when referring to how I walk in heels.”

Daphne tilted her head. “You know she’s wrong, right?”

You frowned. “About what?”

She shrugged. “Everything. You. Your looks. Not that looks are even so important, but you do have them.”

“I’m all right, I guess. I’ll never look like you,” you told her, kindly. There was no point being bitter about it, and it was true, besides.

“Ah, well, don’t pick a standard like that,” said a voice from the doorway, and you both turned to see that Pansy had arrived. 

She was smiling mischievously at the pair of you, and her own makeup was even bolder than yours. But this was Pansy, so it wasn’t surprising. She often wore dark colors around her eyes. “Daphne is a literal angel,” she continued, her eyes flicking appreciatively over the blonde woman sitting next to you on the couch, and at this compliment, Daphne’s cheeks sprawled with a delicate blush. Pansy turned to smile at you. “You look truly lovely, Y/N. Don’t listen to whatever your witch of a mother had to say today.”

“Thanks, Pans,” you said, smiling. These two always had a way of making you feel better. “You look nice, too. What have you two been up to?”

“I’ve been tasked with helping Astoria with school work the past week since the governess needed a bit of time off for her health,” said Daphne, wrinkling her nose a little. “My parents thought it would be good for us to spend quality time together, and Astoria’s grades were positively atrocious last year at Hogwarts. That girl is such a troublemaker, I swear…”

“A dancing class,” answered Pansy, scowling. “My feet are fucking killing me.”

“Another dancing class?” you asked, surprised.

“Yes. Apparently it’s some obscure form of ballroom dancing that I’ll have to know for our upcoming trip in December to…well, wherever we’re going so that my parents can schmooze some other rich family,” said Pansy, examining her fingernails idly and rolling her eyes.

“Ladies,” came another voice from the door, and the three of you looked up to see that all three of the boys had arrived, all wearing suits and looking rather dashing. Theodore, as always, looked stiff and like he’d much rather be off with his nose buried in a book somewhere; Blaise looked his typical self, which could only be described as beautiful and godlike; Draco’s hair was more tousled than usual, but it suited him. He shot you a grin and you returned it.

“Is there a reason for this event?” asked Theo immediately, sounding strained, and you laughed. When it came to things like this, you and Theo were definitely always on the same page with your feelings.

“Ass kissing,” you replied, shrugging. “Some family from the Netherlands.”

“Ah,” he said loftily, wrinkling his nose in a way surprisingly similar to Daphne. “Seems to be business as usual, then.”

Draco took his usual spot beside you. It was funny that you got on so well with him now. As children, it was Draco that you had fought with the most. He had been a little snot, in your memory at least, and every time you saw that pale face you had wanted to punch it. He would pull your hair and you would kick him in the shins. He had sat on your back and gleefully pressed your face into mud while you had sneaked itching powder into his underwear. Usual kid stuff.

The older you got, however, the less you had fought in that way, and the closer you became, until – one day, sometime in third year – you had realized that you were actually quite good friends.

“Guess what,” he said, nudging you with a smile.

“What?”

“Mother is putting in a pool,” he said, a little smugly. “It will be open next week.”

Your eyes got wide. “Really? That’s _amazing_!”

The Parkinsons also had a pool, but Pansy’s parents were nearly as bad to be around as yours, though admittedly in a different way. Her father was even more terrifying, he would shout about every little thing, and he hated when Pansy had friends over. Pansy’s mother, on the other hand, had eyes that were always glazed over, either from alcohol or some sort of anxiety potion or both. The Malfoys, on the other hand, were far more pleasant to be around.

“Time for Theo to learn to swim, it seems,” said Pansy, grinning at him.

“Hell no,” growled Theo, vigorously shaking his head.

“I think yes,” said Blaise. “Come on, Theo, it’s easy. If we just throw you in, you’ll get the hang of it quick enough. You’ve got good survival instincts, don’t you?”

Everyone laughed as Theo glared. “I hate you all.”

—————————————————————–

You all had a blissful hour to yourselves before the adults came to fetch you in order to come and greet the special guests.

The Dutch couple also turned out to have a son around your age, though you’d guess he was at least a couple of years older than the rest of you. He was rather handsome, though he didn’t smile at anyone when he was introduced. He shook hands with the boys and kissed the girls in a mechanical sort of manner and then stepped back beside his mother, his blue eyes sweeping over Daphne with great interest. His parents also never smiled, which was rather unnerving. Their English was excellent – hardly a trace of an accent – and you watched your mother’s huge smile and gushing introduction with a certain bitterness.

“Well now, which one is your daughter, Ms. Y/L/N?” the Dutch woman – Cornelia, you were quite sure she was called – asked your mother.

Your mother turned and grabbed your arm, yanking you forward with an enthusiasm that really, you felt was entirely unnecessary. You really didn’t want your arm to be pulled from its socket, after all, nor did you want to twist your ankle. “This is Y/N,” she said, a little breathlessly.

Cornelia then did something very strange. 

Still unsmiling, she appraised you in much the same way that your mother had in your bedroom. You squirmed a little under her gaze, highly uncomfortable; and then she walked around you in a full circle, looking you up and down as if this were a doctor examination and not a dinner party. When she had completed the circle, she stopped in front of you again, and then, finally, she smiled.

It didn’t reach her eyes.

“Lovely,” she said finally, in a toneless voice. “Isn’t that right, Albert?” She turned to her son, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes,” the son agreed. “Very lovely.”

“Well, what about us?” you heard Pansy say from behind you, her tone incredibly scathing, and you turned to see that she was gesturing between her and Daphne and glaring at your mother and Cornelia. “Are Daphne and I going to be appraised like cattle, too, or is it just Y/N that’s _lucky_ enough to get that sort of attention?” Her voice dripped sarcasm on the word lucky. 

The words were barely out of mouth before her father whipped around and backhanded her clean across the face.

The young people all jumped, shocked; you had seen Pansy’s father hit her before, but never at a party like this, and never quite so hard. 

Narcissa Malfoy, who was standing a few feet away beside her husband, actually gasped out loud but quickly covered her mouth and turned the sound into a fake cough in an extremely hasty cover-up.

“How dare you?” he hissed to his daughter, and then he turned to Cornelia as Pansy clutched at her reddening cheek, glaring at his back. 

You noted Daphne and Theo move closer to her side and take each of her hands in theirs. You also wanted to run over to her, to hug her, to thank her for sticking up for you, but you knew that at the moment it wasn’t wise. And besides, you weren’t sure that your feet were working, and when you glanced down at your hands at your sides, they were trembling.

“You’ll have to excuse my daughter,” said Mr. Parkinson in a smooth voice to the Dutch couple. “We’re working on the manners.”

“Quite,” was all Cornelia said, completely unfazed by the scene in front of her. Her husband, whose name you hadn’t listened to, was still observing you, and you avoided his eyes, feeling even more uneasy than before.

You felt a shoulder bump into yours, nudging you, and you knew without looking that it was Draco. It made you feel better to have his sturdy presence at your side. Glancing up at him, however, you saw that he was glaring at Pansy’s father and that his jaw was clenched so tightly you were afraid it would snap.

This was going to be a very long dinner.

—————————————————————————

Indeed, the thing lasted almost three hours.

Three hours of listening to the adults gossip and schmooze, and watching your mother trip over herself in an attempt to impress Cornelia Van Adel.

You hated them both.

Draco sat beside you at the whole meal, and you both alternated between shooting each other annoyed glances out of the corners of your eyes at the excessive brown-nosing of the adults and worried glances over at Pansy, whose cheek was actually becoming a little swollen and who was merely pushing her food around on her plate, looking rather sullen.

When your father and mother stood up and tapped a champagne glass to make everyone quiet down, before the house elves finally brought out dessert, you felt a sudden sense of foreboding, though you weren’t quite sure why. Your mother loved to make toasts, and often all you had to do was sit quietly and wait for it to be over.

“It’s so wonderful to have you all here,” said your mother happily, and you again felt a wave of bitterness and hatred at the warmth she was able to fake for other people. She turned and gestured to the Dutch family to her left. “And, of course, our very special guests, the Van Adels.” There were murmurs and the adults lifted their glasses respectfully to the family, who sat impassively, eyes fixed on your mother as if waiting for something particular.

“As it turns out,” your mother continued, beaming down briefly at your father before doing so to the rest of the table. “We have a very special announcement to make. Big, big news.”

 _Oh shit, they’re pregnant_ , was your first, horrified thought. _Merlin, please, no…._

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you waited for your mother to say whatever it was that she was about to say. And then her eyes flicked to you, and that same sense of foreboding returned.

“We and the Van Adels have discussed that our children shall be wed!” she exclaimed happily, raising her glass with a wide smile.

It took you a moment – a moment, and the sudden pressure of Draco’s hand wrapping around your wrist, squeezing in vague alarm – to realize that she was talking about you. And Albert. Getting married. That she was arranging a marriage for you into this family that never smiled, to the boy that, even now, as he looked at you, was not smiling. 

In fact, he was looking at you with something very much like disdain.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t speak. Black spots flickered in front of your vision and for a moment you were legitimately afraid you would pass out, right there onto your empty plate.

The adults had all toasted and were taking heavy drinks by now, but the young people were all sitting frozen in their seats. You didn’t dare look at your friends in the eyes, afraid of the pity that you might see there.

An arranged marriage wasn’t _uncommon_ in the Pureblood world. Not necessarily.

Daphne, for example, was probably going to end up marrying Theo, though it was nothing official. Mostly just an unspoken knowledge, at this point. Something that was silently expected. It was, however, extremely uncommon to do it before school was out, and the practice was falling out of fashion lately anyway, especially with parents like Narcissa Malfoy, who wouldn’t ever want to take away something from her son or make him do something that he didn’t want to do.

“Y/N,” Draco whispered beside you, urgently. “Y/N, hey…”

“ _Draco_ ,” was all you were able to choke out, voice barely a murmur, and you swayed a little on your seat. “I can’t…I don’t want…” You finally turned your head, your eyes wide in complete panic, searching his gray ones. His face was set, and he had a look on it that you knew well. It was the same look that he had when he did homework or took exams. His brain was clearly whirring.

As if in a hazy fog, you saw Albert Van Adel lean over to his mother and whisper something, and then Cornelia stood up briskly. 

You prepared yourself for whatever fresh horror was about to come out of her mouth. Would they marry you off underage? Talk about the kind of wedding you would have? Announce that you’d be moving from England to live with them?

You swayed again, just a little, feeling suddenly incredibly sick.

“We haven’t come entirely to an agreement yet,” said Cornelia, glancing at your mother, whose brow furrowed. You saw a hint of panic in your mother’s eyes, and you would have relished it under different circumstances. As it was, you couldn’t even enjoy it. And then Cornelia turned to address Daphne’s father. “May we inquire the status of your daughter’s hand? My son would prefer your daughter.”

She didn’t say it with malice. And it really shouldn’t matter to you anyway, since you hated these people and you didn’t want to be married off (not, of course, that you wanted the fate to befall Daphne, either) but her words were still like a punch to the chest. Of course he would prefer Daphne. Who wouldn’t? 

But being snubbed like this in front of an entire table of people – being told in a roundabout way, essentially, that you were undesirable – it was almost more than you could bear. You felt your cheeks get hot, felt the tears well up in your eyes, and you lowered your face to your plate out of shame and fear that everyone would see just how upset you really were. This was the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to you, easily. Even more so than that time last summer at a fancy party, when you had fallen down an entire flight of stairs headfirst and landed with your legs sprawled, showing a bunch of Ministry officials your flowered underwear.

Your mother looked for a moment as if she too had been slapped hard across the face, though she recovered her composure quickly and pasted a neutral expression on her features. Daphne’s family was wealthier and Daphne was pretty, full of good grace. It was simple as that. The goods your mother was offering in the business transaction were not as valuable as the goods Daphne’s parents could offer. 

The goods, of course, being their daughters.

You felt even queasier.

You were surprised when Draco suddenly spoke up. He was extremely well practiced at making his voice sound snide and condescending, as you had learned over the years, but you had never, ever heard it so _harsh_. “You’re a bloody wanker.” He was glaring furiously at Albert.

“Now, Draco,” was all Lucius said calmly, shooting his son a warning glance and taking a sip of wine, still watching his son over the brim.

“Well, he is,” snapped Draco, moving his glare to his father.

“Er,” said Daphne’s father, very awkwardly. “Daphne isn’t officially betrothed, seeing as she’s underage, but we do have….er…a likely future match for her.”

“Me,” said Theo, waving a happily sarcastic hand at the Van Adels.

There was a long pause.

“Ah,” said Cornelia, nodding in a businesslike sort of manner. “Of course. The best ones are always taken quite early, aren’t they, dear?” She turned to her son with a melancholy air of resignation, and this turned out to be your breaking point. Something inside of you snapped.

Furiously, you sprang to your feet, feeling the intense vibrations of your body shaking all over. “I will _not_ marry him!” you screamed, glaring at your mother. “You can’t make me!” You hated that tears were now streaming down your face and had to fight hard from letting it turn into full blown sobs.

“Actually, we can,” said your mother, arching an eyebrow. “Now sit down, Y/N, you’re causing a scene and this is a happy occasion.”

 _You_ were the one causing a scene? A _happy_ occasion? 

They had brought everyone to this dinner party to play witness to your humiliation and to sell your life away. You began to laugh, almost hysterically but without any real humor, and you didn’t sit down, didn’t obey, because you weren’t done yet. “I will _not_ do it, did you not hear me?! It’s like Pansy said earlier, I’m not a fucking cow for you to sell off, I’m a _person_ – ”

“Silence,” said your father, and though he wasn’t shouting, it was effective enough. The look in his eyes was positively deadly, and you shivered suddenly under his gaze. It promised certain punishment later, when everyone was gone. “Sit down, you silly girl,” he snapped, coldly. “Or you will very sorry, I promise you. You will be marrying right before you come of age, and that is final.”

Numbly, you sat, staring unseeingly at the table and tears still streaming down your face. There was a strange whistling in your ears and the blood was rushing through your head. Your vision was blurry, and you were quite certain that at any moment now, you were going to empty your delicious dinner right out of your stomach. You were unsure whether to aim it at your parents or at the Van Adels. 

Maybe if you were quick about it you could splatter all of them with some.

Quite suddenly, Draco stood up beside you, so quickly and aggressively that the chair behind him scraped loudly across the kitchen floor and frightened the house elf that was standing behind it. The house elf, Mindy, let out a little squeak and trotted to the other side of the table. You, however, were focused on your friend.

His fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw even tighter than it had been after Pansy’s father had struck her, and his eyes were burning at your father. You suddenly became very afraid for his safety, even though logically you knew your father would never dare touch the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

“Draco,” said Lucius again, quickly, but Draco didn’t even look at him.

“She won’t marry him,” he said roughly, but his voice was loud and even. “She won’t marry him, because she’s with me. She’s my girlfriend.”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised. It had always been platonic between the two of you; you most certainly were _not_ his girlfriend. Briefly, he looked down at you, and you saw very clearly the message he was trying to send you. It was in his eyes. You had always been good at communicating non-verbally with each other, and right now he was saying: _Go with this. Trust me._

Quickly, you arranged your face to try and look as if what he was saying was not news to you in the slightest. Narcissa, too, looked momentarily confused, but Draco threw her a look and you saw comprehension flood into her blue eyes.

“You and Mr. Malfoy?” your mother asked suddenly, softer than you had ever heard her speak and looking between the two of you with a very peculiar look on her face. You knew exactly what that look was, too. It was greed.

Your family was Pureblooded and wealthy, but not nearly up to the status of the ancient line and wealth of the Malfoys. Your father and mother never would have dared ask Lucius and Narcissa to pair you off with their only son, possibly guessing that the Malfoys would have taken it as an insult, and possibly because the Malfoys had made it quite clear in the past that they would never arrange Draco’s marriage for him. But this, perhaps, you dating their son, was an alternative that your mother could accept. Even celebrate.

“You’re young,” said Cornelia, waving her hand dismissively. “Those sort of silly teenager hormones are certain to fade by next year…”

“I love her,” he said fiercely, cutting her off, and he sounded so convincing that Cornelia shut her mouth and stared at him and you gazed at him, stunned. “I will _not_ see her engaged and married to someone else,” said Draco, firmly. “And as far as I’m aware, when there is an underage Pureblood couple, the proper etiquette is _not_ to betroth them to someone else for the future…unless the male’s family calls to end the current relationship.” Here, he flicked his eyes to his mother, a pleading look in them. You, for your part, were glued to your chair, still shocked at this turn of events. You understood now why Draco had been thinking so quickly. He had been trying to remember all of those ridiculous classes you all had to take about mostly outdated Pureblood customs as children.

Cornelia turned then to Lucius Malfoy. “Well, Mr. Malfoy?”

Lucius Malfoy glanced at his wife beside him, and then at his agitated son across the table. They shared a long look, and finally, he turned back to Cornelia Van Adel. “My wife and I have agreed never to arrange a betrothal for Draco,” he said evenly, authority ringing in his tone. “He must marry a Pureblood and do it before he is thirty, but otherwise the choice is his. Those are our terms.”

“Ah, but that doesn’t answer the question about this relationship, Lucius,” said the Dutch man, gesturing between you and Draco. “It is unlikely these children will grow up to marry. Surely you must know this. Arranged marriages are much more stable than love, anyway, especially young love, and couples often grow to love one another in arrangements. Do you and Narcissa not agree? You were arranged, were you not? Would you not say you are the better for it?”

Lucius shrugged, even though his eyes flashed momentarily. “Interfering in Draco’s dating life and making him unhappy now for the sake of your arrangement is not something Narcissa and I are willing to do.”

Every muscle in your body relaxed, so much so that you slumped a little in your chair. Draco had thought quickly, and he saved you. You were free. You did not have to marry that awful boy who didn’t even really want you and have his horrible mother for an in-law, so that she and your mother could spend every moment of their lives criticizing you. You had your life back.

It had been taken away and given back within ten minutes.

You could feel yourself shaking still. When Draco sat down, you could see the tremors in his arms as well and wondered why he was so upset. He had won, right? You peeked over and gave him what you hoped was a grateful smile, but you were unsure that the muscles in your face were working properly. It must have worked, at least a little, because he gave you a small, reassuring smile back. You glanced over at your other friends, who were watching the exchange with wide, confused eyes; Pansy, however, was wearing a vicious smile, and you knew she was pleased to see how you had outsmarted the adults’ plot to marry you off.

“Well,” said Cornelia Van Adel, her voice rather icy as her eyes swept over your parents, “I see we have come here for nothing.”

“It seems so,” Draco shot back, seemingly unable to contain himself, and Pansy laughed loudly. But you gave him a look to silence him and smacked his leg. You did not like the way that your father was looking at him.

“I apologize,” said your mother, very graciously. “I…did not know about this relationship with young Mr. Malfoy. My daughter is very secretive with me about such matters, I must admit.”

 _That’s because it’s not real, you_ _blithering_ _idiot, but also because you’re a raging bitch_ , you thought viciously, feeling triumphant over your mother for the first time in your life. It was a good feeling.

“But of course,” your mother continued, looking hopefully at the Malfoys and trying to appease both sides, “We are pleased the children are happy.” Your father undercut these words by letting out a skeptical grunt, but Lucius and Narcissa chose to ignore this, and just smiled politely at your parents.

Narcissa glanced over at you and Draco once more, and you wondered if she knew that Draco had done this to save you and not because he was your boyfriend as he had claimed. Lucius did not look your way, and you were unsure about him, too. An overwhelming gratefulness washed over you and you looked over at Draco’s face again, but he was dishing dessert on his plate without looking at you, his cheeks rather pink.

One thing was for sure, you realized with a horrible jolt. You would obviously have to keep this charade up so that your parents wouldn’t try to auction you off to the next highest bidder. And who knew for how long.

For the foreseeable future, it seemed, your friend Draco Malfoy was going to have to be your fake boyfriend.


	2. The Pool Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! Warnings, as always, are in the chapter notes. Enjoy <3

The Malfoys were the last to leave the dinner party, and they lingered by the front door. There was a long pause before someone finally spoke.

“Well,” said Narcissa finally, very lightly. “That was certainly quite different than we were all expecting, wasn’t it? But I can’t say in an unpleasant way. As you said, the children are happy.” Her blue eyes flicked over to the two of you and she had the hint of a smile on her lips. Draco had hardly let go of your hand since dinner, which you thought was a nice touch with this whole boyfriend thing. In fact, he was still beside you now, glued to your side as if stubbornly unwilling to part from it.

“How long has this been happening?” your mother asked.

“End of last year, at Hogwarts,” lied Draco smoothly. He slipped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to his side, and you tried to act like this was something natural that had happened before, when in fact it just felt strange.

“How lovely,” she said, and indeed, she was smiling.

Merlin, you were glad that your mother was taking this so well. Draco really had played it smart – knowing, possibly, that the only way that your mother would be okay with this was because he was a Malfoy. Lucius and Narcissa had kept their faces mostly impassive and neutral throughout dinner and even now, so you had no idea what they thought about it, but you knew they didn’t dislike you from all of the time that you had spent with the Malfoy family at the Manor over the years. And if Narcissa’s attitude now was anything to go by, she was fine with it.

Your father, however, was the only person who did not look as if he thought it were very lovely, which you didn’t understand at all. He too should be happy that his daughter was with a Malfoy, shouldn’t he?

It hit you that perhaps it was because this was completely out of control. Betrothing you to a boy in the Netherlands meant that he and your mother had orchestrated the situation, and that he could keep you well and separated from him until the time would have come when you were to be married.

“Well, we’re opening the pool next week,” continued Narcissa graciously, and you tore your gaze away from your father’s distrustful one. “Perhaps we can all have a little get together for opening day?”

“That sounds wonderful!” said your mother enthusiastically.

Lucius and Narcissa stepped closer to the door, but Draco had yet to move from your side. “Coming, Draco?” Lucius asked, raising a sardonic eyebrow. “She’ll still be here next time.”

Narcissa and your mother shared tinkling laughs.

Draco still didn’t move. “Er,” he began tentatively, his eyes sweeping between his parents with a pointed look. “Perhaps she can come stay with us for a few nights? At the Manor?”

“Not going to happen,” said your father, before the Malfoys could respond, and Draco looked over at him. His face was neutral but his eyes were brimming with something you couldn’t quite identify. Your father looked at you irritably. “I don’t need her getting pregnant before school’s out.”

“No offense,” your mother said quickly, to Narcissa and Lucius, looking positively horrified at the implication of her husband’s words. “We’re sure that Draco is an upstanding young man – it’s Y/N we’re worried about, really…”

“I’m not going to get pregnant!” you said indignantly, feeling your cheeks get hot. You had never even _kissed_ anyone before, and she was presenting you like you were some sort of wild woman.

“Oh, no need to say that,” said Lucius to your mother, smiling a little. “Draco’s a good boy, but he _is_ still a teenage boy…”

“Father,” complained Draco quietly, voice strained and exasperated, patches of pink appearing briefly on his cheeks.

“More than that,” your father said, “Y/N is grounded for the next week. Until the pool party. I’m not happy with her manners toward the Van Adels.” 

Your face flamed even more. It seemed there was no end to the humiliation that your family was going to put you through tonight.

Draco’s face was neutral, but you felt how his fingers tightened almost painfully into your waist. And then, very reluctantly, he released you. You didn’t understand why he was acting so strange. And then he pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your hair and placing his mouth directly by your ear so he could breathe something that no one else could hear. “You owl me if you need anything, okay?”

You just nod, barely, only enough for him to feel it, still a little confused. When he finally pulled back, his face was only inches from yours and his eyes full of concern, his hands on your shoulders. He pressed his lips to your cheek, softly, and then slowly made his way to his parents, so slowly that it looked as if he were dragging his feet through tar or wet sand.

“What a gentleman!” your mother said jovially. “But you two don’t have to pretend you don’t get up to any snogging at all!”

“ _Mother_ ,” you hissed, glaring at her and shooting Draco an apologetic look.

“We’ll keep in touch,” said Narcissa graciously to your mother, swooping in to kiss her on both cheeks. After a round of goodbye handshakes and kisses, the Malfoys were out the front door. The last thing you saw were Draco’s eyes glancing over his shoulder at you, glittering in the darkness that had fallen on the grounds of your mansion, before the front door closed with a snap.

“Well,” exclaimed your mother as soon as the door was closed, turning to you with a huff. “You were unspeakably horrible and rude, Y/N, so it’s a good thing that pool party is going to be a week from now. Because like your father said, you won’t be going anywhere. You’ll be spending the week doing chores.”

You groaned inwardly, but knew better than to complain outwardly. Instead, you patiently waited for her to keep talking, which you knew she was about to do. Your mother was practically bubbling with excitement, and she was smiling in a way that was so rare on her that for a moment, you relaxed.

“But a _Malfoy_!” your mother said, her eyes slightly glazed. You weren’t sure if it was from the ecstasy of thinking about the Malfoy’s bank vaults or alcohol or both. “You’d better keep this one, Y/N, you incompetent girl,” she said, shaking her finger at you. “This is an even better match for you than I could have possibly imagined…he would be marrying far under his station. And his level.” Her critical eye ran over you, making you feel small and hideous as it always did. “He’s handsome, gets good grades…I can’t believe it, a _Mal_ – ”

“A Malfoy, yes,” you interrupted her, unable to help yourself. You glared at her, hating that she was already planning your wedding to someone else.

“Darling,” said your father to your mother, his voice soft, and you froze. Your heart began to pound uncomfortably fast. His soft voice was when he was at his most dangerous. “Why don’t you go prepare for bed, hmm? It’s been a long day for you. I’ll be up shortly. I just want to have a little…father-daughter chat with Y/N. First boyfriend and all.” He smiled at her, and then at you. But his eyes were angry, and you felt a sudden, debilitating rush of fear.

“I am _quite_ tired,” your mother said, still smiling dazedly. “I’ll see you upstairs then, my love. Shall I pour us some more wine?” Her voice was slightly sultry, and you shuddered, infinitely glad your room was far, far away from theirs.

“Oh yes, please,” your father said, smiling, and your mother disappeared up the staircase without so much as another glance your direction. You tried hard to control the shaking in your hands, and suddenly, you missed the pressure and warmth of Draco’s hand in one of yours.

Your father’s back was to you, watching the staircase, and some time after you both could no longer hear your mother’s footsteps he turned to face you, his eyes full of rage. Automatically, you stumbled a few panicked steps backward, knowing already what was coming. You were already feeling your mouth beginning to smart from anticipation of the pain that was surely to come as punishment for your backtalk and rudeness at dinner.

But he didn’t pop you on the mouth as he usually would have, or even box your ears, which was his other classic punishment. Instead, he took a page out of Pansy’s father’s book and smacked you openly across the face. 

You cried out a little and took two steps back from the force of it, feeling your cheek already beginning to burn where his hand had struck your cheeks and the tears welling up in your eyes as you stared up at him in disbelief.

“It occurred to me,” said your father slowly, “That I’ve been too soft on you. That Parkinson man made that rebellious little daughter of his obey with one hit, didn’t he? Is one enough to remind you who is in charge here?”

“Y-yes,” you choked out, shaking like a leaf and your heart thudding painfully against your chest.

“Good,” he mused softly. “But you don’t understand why I’m so angry, I think. It wasn’t only about your manners. I know what you and that Malfoy boy did. I understand _exactly_ what happened.”

Your eyes got wide. “I-I don’t know what you mean…”

“Don’t lie,” he hissed, viciously. “You and that boy weren’t dating. I saw your face when he said it. You were as surprised as the rest of us, and so were all of your little friends. You did it to defy your mother and I.”

“No, Father, I…I promise you…” You began, because the consequences of him knowing it was fake were far, far worse than you trying to lie about it. “I was just surprised that he spoke up right then, but I swear, I really like him…”

Your father snorted, but he did not accuse you of lying again. “Listen well,” he said finally, leaning forward menacingly and his voice softer and deadlier than ever, “If I am not convinced and I find out that you were indeed lying, the consequences will be far worse than _this_ , Y/N.”

You tried hard not to imagine what sort of consequences could be worse than this. How had Pansy lived like this for so long?

You just nodded, choking back a sob but unable to keep the tears from spilling over your inflamed cheek. They burned going down, but you couldn’t stop them. They just came, thick and fast.

Something clattered loudly beside you on the floor, and you flinched away automatically. “Use it,” said your father brusquely, and then his footsteps stormed away, clicking until they faded to the staircase and beyond. It was only long after they had left that you could relax again completely.

You leaned forward and took the thing that your father had thrown at your feet.

A little tub of Magical Bruise Remover.

———————————————————————————————–

The next week was really very stressful.

Luckily, your father was working often and your mother was in a good enough mood that when he came home, he seemed to be willing to spend the time with her. He would throw you dirty looks sometimes or bark at you to do more chores, but he never sought you out for more “father daughter time”, and for that you were infinitely grateful. It seemed your punishment had reached its peak for now, but you did not like to think about what would happen in the future if he wasn’t convinced of your relationship with Draco Malfoy.

Still, feeling like you had to look over your shoulder in your own home was exhausting, and you could feel it taking a toll. You ate less, slept less, and when you looked in the mirror you saw a young woman that was generally paler and more exhausted, with light circles beginning to form under her eyes.

You kept up a regular correspondence with your friends, and particularly Draco, who kept up a constant stream of owls to help ease your boredom for the week. You were doubly grateful for this because if your father were to find out, it would only help solidify the boyfriend image.

The day of the pool party to celebrate the opening of the Malfoy pool approached, and even though your parents were coming, there were three very positive things about today. 

The first was that you would finally be released from your house arrest sentence; the second was that you would at least be around others, and did not have the imminent threat of your father’s continued anger hovering over you while at the party; and third was that it marked one week to the return of Hogwarts, and you had never been more excited to go back.

On the other hand, you knew that your father would be watching your interactions with Draco very carefully, and it made you incredibly nervous.

The other guests – your friends and Blaise’s mother, Esmeralda, though none of the other parents had come – had already arrived by the time that you and your family did, as your mother had taken an extra long time getting ready.

Merlin, one would think that _she_ was courting the Malfoys.

Daphne was stretched out beside the pool, simultaneously tanning and napping; Theo was sitting beside her, squinting seriously at a book. Draco and Blaise were already in the pool, and Pansy…you frowned.

You didn’t see Pansy, and that scared you more than usual.

Upon seeing you, Draco immediately swam to the edge and put his hands on the edge to launch himself out of the pool and rush over to you, taking both your hands in his and squeezing them, his eyes intently scanning your face.

_He’s good at this pretend couple thing_ , you thought, relieved.

You put on a smile that you hoped was sappier than the usual friendly smile that you gave him, and then you threw your arms around him as if you hadn’t been able to stand the separation between the two of you. He was all wet from the pool but you didn’t care. It was the first time in a week that you felt completely relaxed, especially when his arms tightened around you and he buried his face into your hair. “Are you okay?” he whispered. “You seem…”

He pulled back from the hug to look at you again, carefully.

“It’s all okay,” you murmured, avoiding his eyes. You felt horrible for lying to him, but really, what was he going to do about the situation? “But we really have to sell this, okay? I’ll explain later.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, a slight frown coming over his features. It was then that you noticed that water drops were clinging to his face and his eyelashes, and really, the effect of it was…quite nice. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

You nodded, taking his hand and pulling him away to avoid the scrutiny of his gaze and waving at Blaise as you walked, who was swimming gleefully in the pool. “Yes. Come on, I want to go say hi to Daphne and Theo.”

“Y/N!” called Daphne, sitting up suddenly and smiling at you.

She was as perfect as ever, with her blonde, wavy locks and her big sunglasses, long legs sprawled out on the towel. You jumped a little when she spoke to you – she had been lying so still that you truly had thought she had been napping and that you’d have to wake her up.

“Hey Daph,” you greeted. “Theo. Are your parents coming?”

“Mine might,” said Daphne. “Astoria is supposed to come in an hour or so. Had to finish her homework first, but I suspect that she’ll do it quickly. She really wants to see Blaise in a swimsuit.” You all laughed, and then Draco squeezed your hand before sprinting over to the edge of the pool and doing a cannonball as violently as possible right beside Blaise, who protested with a loud shout. Draco bobbed up, laughing, and you were suddenly struck by his blonde hair glinting in the sunlight and the ripples of the muscles in his back as he swam. You were snapped out of your strange observations by Daphne, who had leaned over to say to you, very quietly, “Have you heard from Pansy?”

“No,” you replied, feeling the rush of fear go through you again at the mention of your other friend. “Have you not heard from her?”

Daphne shook her head, biting her lap. “She hasn’t responded to my owls the past few days. She only answered Narcissa’s invitation, saying she wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t come.” Her face was filling with a very vague blush, though you weren’t quite sure why that would be.

Oh god, you should have Owled Pansy. You had been consumed by your own problems that week, but now you felt wretched for not doing it. And now that you knew what it was like for her…had some vague idea…

The fear invaded your stomach violently, twisting it uncomfortably and making you feel nauseous, and you suddenly stood up. “I need to cool off,” you said mechanically, ignoring Daphne’s strange look. Your mind was racing as you remembered Pansy’s swollen face at your fateful “engagement” party.

Really, you just wanted to talk to Draco, because he would probably agree to go along with what you wanted to do, and so you quickly slipped your cover up shirt off and ran to the edge of the pool, leaping at the very last second to submerge into the gloriously cool water.

When your head broke the surface, hair dripping, Draco was already there, grinning crookedly at you, and then he splashed you.

“Hey!” you spluttered. “What was that for?”

“Payback for your jump,” he said, smiling.

Under the water, he placed his hands on your hips, and you jumped nervously at his touch. He had placed his hands there before, of course, for dancing, but this, somehow, was different. Part of it had to with the mere fact that it was _supposed_ to look intimate for others; the other may have been the very profound lack of clothing between the two of you and the way his fingertips had accidentally grazed your stomach on the way to your hips. 

Either way, you were uncomfortable, and you stiffened under his fingertips, making him freeze and start to withdraw, an uncertain look on his face. But you quickly reached out and grabbed his forearms, keeping his hands in place, and then moved your hands to his shoulders and edged a little closer, so that you were embracing and rotating in a slow sort of circle, kicking in the water.

Blaise just rolled his eyes at the pair of you. “Oi, Theo, Daphne! Get in here so I’m not all alone with the lovebirds!”

You didn’t dare peek over your shoulder at your father, but you hoped this was convincing enough.

“No,” you heard Theo say, his voice bored, and you knew by that tone that he hadn’t even bothered to glance up from his book. “Obviously.”

Daphne just laughed, and you heard her stand and start to rummage around, meaning she was soon about to join you in the pool.

“Is this all right?” you heard Draco murmur, and your eyes moved to his. “You said to sell it…”

“I did,” you whispered, still turning in a slow circle. “You’re doing perfectly. Really well. I was just…a bit surprised, is all.”

“Okay,” he answered back, barely audible into your ear. “Your father has been glaring at me like he wants to bite my head off, so honestly I wasn’t sure whether I should even put my hands on you or not, but since you said…”

“Yes,” you mumbled back hastily, stiffening a little at the mention of your father. And automatically, your thoughts flew back to Pansy again. “Listen, Draco…”

“What is it?” His voice sounded concerned in your ear.

“I think we should go to Pansy’s.”

“Now?”

“Yes. I’m worried about her.”

He was quiet for a moment, considering. “Okay.”

You squeezed his shoulders gratefully. “Thank you.”

“I’m worried about her too,” he admitted. “She hasn’t answered my owls.”

“Daphne told me she hasn’t answered hers, either,” you explained. “Should we go talk to the parents, then?”

You felt him nod, and together, you swam to the edge of the pool and vaulted up, where you both toweled off and slipped on your respective shirts and shoes so that the cement wouldn’t burn your feet for the walk around the pool. Once on the other side you both hovered in front of both sets of parents, looking between them rather nervously.

“Yes?” asked Narcissa, clearly amused.

“We wanted to go check on Pansy,” said Draco. “Make sure she’s okay.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” said Narcissa gently. “There’s some chilled soup that you can bring her. It’s on the top shelf of the refrigerator.”

Your father just gave you a gruff sort of look, but he didn’t argue. Quickly, you and Draco made your way to the cool refuge of the Malfoy Manor living room. He disappeared to the kitchen momentarily to grab the soup and then he was back, standing with you in front of the fireplace.

“What?” you asked, when you realized he was staring at you.

He just stepped forward, frowning, analyzing your face, seemingly searching it for something. You looked down at the floor, irritated. “What happened to you?” he asked. “You’re acting different. You’ve got bags under your eyes…”

“I’m fine,” you said, dismissively. “I was just doing stupid chores all week and didn’t get as much sleep. Let’s go.”

You made to move forward to grab the powder on the fireplace, but he stepped in your way, looking stern. “Before we go, tell me what you meant earlier about selling it. Why did you seem so anxious? Did something happen?”

Frustrated and trying to go around him, you said, “No. I’ll explain more after – “

“You know, you blink a lot when you lie,” he said calmly, side-stepping into your way again. “And I want you to explain _now_. It won’t take long.”

Sighing, you stopped and looked up at him. You knew how stubborn he could be, and so there was really no point in prolonging it any further. “Fine. It was just…my father was really angry. Well, they both were angry because of how I acted, but my father was really angry because he…well, he guessed that we…you know. Made it all up. To get me out of the marriage.”

He blinked. “And your mother?”

“Oh, she’s thrilled,” you said dully, scowling. “Positively _ecstatic_ that I’ve managed to snatch someone that’s ‘ _above my station and well above my level_ ,’” you mimicked, rolling your eyes.

He gaped at you. “She did not say that.”

“Yes, she did,” you said, grimly. “But it’s fine. She’s said worse. Anyway – ”

“She says worse?” he replied, appalled.

“Not important right now, Draco,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “What’s important is that we really…well, you know. Sell it. I’ll…” You couldn’t keep your voice from wavering a little bit. “Otherwise I’ll get in real trouble.”

Draco opened his mouth and closed it again. His eyes were swirling with too many emotions to read, even if his face was still quite neutral, looking at you with a very serious expression. They were quite pretty, really, his eyes. Striking, if you were being honest with yourself. You had never really seen it before. And then you shook yourself a little, because you realized that he had been talking and you had not been listening.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said,” he repeated patiently, “That we will. Okay? Don’t worry.” He looked so earnest that you relaxed a little. Draco was on your side. He was helping look out for you, and he was an even better actor that you. Maybe it really would all turn out all right. “But you have to tell me what you’re okay with,” he continued seriously, eyes flicking around your face. “You know, for the…for our act. In public. And then we’ll have to lay it on thick.”

“I…” You were vaguely alarmed by this conversation, because you weren’t quite sure what the possibilities were. “I don’t know.”

“I can hold your hand?” he pressed. “Hug you? Put my hands on your waist, your back, your face? That’s all fine?”

“Yes,” you said, nodding. “That’s all fine.”

“Is there something I shouldn’t touch?”

“Um,” you said, cheeks beginning to get warm. “Well – “

“Besides the obvious places,” he rushed to say. “I didn’t mean – I’m not going to like…make a grab for your chest or something, I just meant…” 

You caught his eye then, and the ridiculousness of the conversation made you both suddenly start laughing. When you had both finally stopped, he continued, with a wide grin on his face, “I just meant if there’s something random you don’t like, for…whatever reason.”

“Not really,” you said, shaking your head. “What about you?”

“Not me either. You can do whatever.”

“Good to know.”

He grew a little more serious again. “Can I kiss you?”

His tone was businesslike, detached, but you felt yourself warm in the cheeks anyway, hardly able to stammer out a response. “I…I would rather…”

“Not?” he guessed, face carefully blank.

“No, it’s…I mean, we’ll have to sooner or later. Probably sooner. Won’t we?”

He nodded once, not even bothering to sugarcoat it. “Yes.”

“It’s just…um.” Suddenly, you were horribly mortified to say what it was that you had to say next, and yet you didn’t really have a choice. _He’s my friend_ , you reminded yourself. _Maybe even my best friend._ _He’s certainly my partner in crime._ _You know he won’t judge you_.

“I’d…I’d rather we…maybe try it out first. Just a few times. Not in public, I mean. If that’s okay. It should seem as real as possible. I’ve never…” You swallowed, face heating up and staring at your feet, really, _really_ not wanting to finish the sentence, and you figured he got the message anyway. So to ease your discomfort and for something – _anything_ – else to say, your mouth opened and the words tumbled out of their own accord. “Have you?”

Your cheeks flamed up even more. You wanted to kick yourself.

Of course he had. Hadn’t nearly everyone your age? That’s what it felt like, anyway. You were the odd one out.

Your mother’s voice suddenly floated through your head.

_Well, the makeup looks good, considering what I have to work with…._

_At least the dress enhances that less than average chest a little…_

_No hips to speak of…_

“Of course you have,” you mumbled before he could answer, horrified and feeling the stupidest urge to cry. You began blinking quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears accumulating in your eyes.

The hand not holding the soup reached out and clasped your wrist, and he tugged on it a little. Reluctantly, you looked up. “You know that you have guys very interested in you at Hogwarts, right?” he asked somberly.

You scoffed. “What? No, I don’t – “

“Yes, you do,” he argued, a little heatedly. “You’re just clueless. Guys talk, and I’ve heard it.” He wrinkled his nose a little. “I really wish I hadn’t, but I have. You’re just…not as approachable as someone like Daphne. You’re not really flirty. Actually, I know you quite well, and I can’t even tell when you’re interested in someone. They just don’t want to get rejected, that’s all.”

“Are you telling me I should flirt and smile more?” you asked, dully. It sounded like something that your mother would say to you.

“What? No! Do whatever you want. I’m just saying don’t think that you’re – I don’t know, lesser, or something stupid like that.” He sounded so stern and was looking at you so fiercely that you found that for a moment, you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Your voice had died in your throat.

“Okay,” you said finally, voice small.

“And anyway, of course we can practice a bit before doing it in public,” he said, shrugging casually, and you realized that he was back to talking about kissing you again. “Has to be realistic, right? Should we try it now?”

For a strange moment, a warmth in your chest sprang to being and blazed like an inferno; but then it was strangled by a sudden panic and fear. With wide eyes, you shook your head quickly, though you knew you couldn’t put it off much longer. Possibly not even for the rest of the day. It would probably be best to kiss him in front of your parents today, wouldn’t it?

“Later it is,” he said, smiling a little at your deer in headlights expression.

“We should get going,” you said quickly. “To Pansy’s.”

“Right,” he said, nodding. “Let’s go.”

He went first, stepping into the Floo and throwing the powder into the flames, and you followed right after, shouting “ _Pansy Parkinson_!” before you were engulfed by the green light and warmth and began to spin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> language, parental abuse (nothing worse than in the first part), light sexual themes, so much innocence your heart will fucking squeeze


	3. Just Like A Play

You both emerged in the Parkinson’s living room, a place decorated with dark, imposing colors and stiff, unwelcoming furniture. The dreary atmosphere was enhanced by the fact that the heavy curtains were drawn even though it was a sunny, pleasant day outside, and this gave you a strong sense of foreboding.

Tense and not daring to move, you and Draco stood and waited for Pansy’s father to come running as he always did when he heard the rushing flames of the Floo, preparing yourself for a shouting tirade about dropping into his house unannounced. You could only hope he wouldn’t send you away before you could see Pansy. However, after a few moments of waiting with bated breath, he didn’t come. No one came. The house was utterly silent.

“Do you think they’re home?” you whispered, frowning.

Draco tilted his head back and opened his mouth, and it looked like he was about to shout for Pansy so you quickly reached over and clapped a hand over his mouth. “I wouldn’t do that,” you warned, before releasing your hand.

He just nodded slowly. “Right. Should we just…quietly look for her?”

“Sure,” you agreed, and you both set out practically on tiptoe to search the house to see if at least someone was home, peering around corners before you went down them in case her father was there. You both really didn’t feel like being cursed into oblivion after taking him by surprise in some corridor.

After nearly ten minutes of wandering around the mansion, you hadn’t had any luck. You were just about to suggest to Draco that perhaps they had gone on vacation and you should get back to the pool party when a sort of shuffling sound came from a door to your right. You turned and frowned at it, listening again carefully. After a few moments of silence, there was another scuffle, and your mind went into overtime, imagining Pansy being hurt in some way. 

Without thinking, you strode forward and pushed the door open with a flourish, with Draco right on your heels.

What you saw made your jaw drop, and you stopped dead in the doorway.

Pansy was not being hurt. She was not with her parents, either. She was with a girl, a girl you didn’t know but seemed to be around your age, and they were kissing feverishly on the couch. The buttons on Pansy’s shirt were completely open, and the other girls hands were on her stomach, trailing upward.

You couldn’t help it – you gasped and stumbled backward, directly into Draco, and the girls stopped immediately, looking up in shock at the intrusion.

When Pansy saw it was the two of you, she just grinned, a hazy look in her eyes. “Well hello Draco, Y/N,” she slurred, and that’s when you saw the empty bottle of whiskey on the end table beside the couch. “What brings you here?”

“We thought you were sick!” you exclaimed, angrily. “Or that your father was keeping you from the party. What the hell, Pansy?”

“Oh, relax,” she drawled, rolling her eyes.

The other girl, whoever she was, stood up quickly, looking distinctly flustered and awkward. “I’ll go get a snack. Give you all some time to talk.” She brushed past you and Draco, hair mussed, as quickly as her legs could carry her. Once out of the room, she closed the door with a gentle snap.

You both rounded on Pansy again. “Why didn’t you answer my owls?” Draco asked, his voice hard, and you knew that he, too, was irritated. “Or Daphne’s?”

Something flashed across Pansy’s face, and then she scowled. “Because I was too busy drinking and fornicating. Duh.”

“We thought something had happened to you, Pansy! We were really worried!” you nearly shouted, suddenly furious. “And instead you’re just holed up here, drinking and screwing around with some – some _girl_ – “

“Oh, don’t be such a prude, Y/N,” Pansy slurred, rolling her eyes and smiling wickedly at you. “Or is it just because it was two girls?”

You reeled back as if she had slapped you, stung. “I’m _not_ a prude,” you said indignantly. “And I don’t care if you like girls! I just didn’t know, that’s all.”

“That’s not so strange, seeing as I didn’t tell you,” she snapped.

You just stared at her, completely nonplussed, and trying not to be hurt by her harshness. Pansy could be like this sometimes, but something seemed to be really wrong with her. Was it just all the alcohol she had drank? 

And then her dark eyes got even darker when they swept over Draco standing beside you, still clutching tightly to the soup and giving her a hard look. “Excellent advice, by the way, Draco,” she said sarcastically. “Really, really well done, worked out great, in case you wanted to know…”

“Advice?” You turned to Draco to see that his eyes had widened a little, and then he shot you a look that was distinctly guilty. “What advice?”

“She said she just wasn’t sure,” continued Pansy, ignoring your question and standing up to stumble over to the two of you, poking Draco rather hard in the chest with one finger. “She was all evasive and told me that she didn’t think she liked women, after all, it was just an experiment…”

Draco flinched.

“Can I know what’s happening here?” you butted in, unable to stand it.

“Daphne,” he murmured finally, his gaze moving to you. “Have you not noticed the little back and forth she and Pansy have been doing since the spring?”

Pansy scoffed. “Of c-course not,” she said, hiccuping. “Y/N is one of the most oblivious people I have ever met.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed indignantly, frowning.

Draco threw you a look that had ‘ _see?_ _I told you’_ written all over it, and this only served to heighten your irritation. You thought, however, of Daphne’s blushes and the compliments that Pansy had been giving Daphne, and suddenly it made sense. This was why Pansy had not come to the party, or answered anyone’s owls. She was heartbroken.

“Something happened between you two then?” you asked tentatively.

“In the spring,” affirmed Pansy, reaching for a bottle of wine on a table beside Draco, but he was quicker than her and snatched it deftly away, holding it up and out of her reach. She glared at him, but continued, “We’ve been d-dancing around it ever since. D-Draco told me to just go for her, but that was shit advice.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he insisted. “She’ll come around.”

She rolled her eyes. “No. She doesn’t like women, she said. Or she isn’t sure. How can you have your tongue down one’s throat and not know afterward?”

“I think it’s normal to be confused, Pansy…” you began, but she just shot you a scathing look and cut off the rest of what you had wanted to be comforting words. Apparently, she wasn’t having anything either of you were saying.

“Oh, please. As if you’re even in touch with any of that shit yourself.”

“What does that mean?” you asked indignantly, cheeks flaming and fists clenching. You knew Pansy was angry and upset, but she was crossing lines.

“Pansy,” began Draco quickly, but she just talked over him.

“Can you even tell me what your type is?” she taunted, eyes glittering.

“Men,” you answered, and she laughed, long and loud.

“I know _that_. I meant what _type_ of man you like.”

“I don’t – “ you sputtered, glaring at her, and then realized that if you didn’t have an answer that it would only prove her point. “Tall, I guess. Nice eyes,” you said lamely, not liking being put on the spot, and she cackled a little.

“Wrong answer,” she said, grinning. “I saw your father’s face last week. Draco’s your _boyfriend_ now, isn’t he?” she said, with a touch of cruel sarcasm on the word “boyfriend”. “So you’d better get used to the idea of saying _he’s_ your type, and sounding believable for the reasons that you give when you do.”

“Pansy,” Draco said again, even sharper, but she continued ignoring him.

“Just t-trying to help you two out,” Pansy stuttered drunkenly. “But it’s your funeral, I s-suppose.” She paused, and then giggled to herself. “Or really, it would be your wedding, Y/N. S-same thing in this case though, right?”

“That’s enough, Pansy,” growled Draco fiercely.

“Give me that wine,” she retorted.

“No.”

She jumped up for it, but he held it easily out of her reach, and she stumbled a little upon landing. He put the soup on the table instead, and turned stiffly to the door. “Ready?” he asked you, and you nodded.

“Don’t drink too much,” you shot to Pansy irritably, over your shoulder.

“Use protection!” she called after your and Draco’s retreating backs, and you could hear her delighted cackle all the way down the hall.

You got to the fireplace and back to Draco’s quickly, still incredibly angry at Pansy’s behavior. You didn’t like being taunted or made to feel stupid, and she had done both of those things. But she must really be hurting because of Daphne.

“She’s a mean drunk,” you finally said to him, voice tight.

Draco set the stolen bottle of wine above the mantle on the fireplace. “Sometimes, yes,” he agreed, shaking his head and looking rather grim.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“She made me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone,” he said, eyes flicking to yours. “I was the only one that knew, and it was really only because I did exactly what we just did. I walked in on it.”

“Oh,” you said, pondering this.

“Yeah. Should we…go back out there?” He held out a hand for you to take.

“In…in a few minutes.” You hesitated, feeling suddenly nervous but knowing that you had to ask, twisting your hands together anxiously and finding that you couldn’t look up at him. Instead, you stared down at your feet and mumbled, “I think that you should…you know. Kiss me now. Before going out to be with others and doing it in public. I think it’s better to get it out of the way.”

His eyes flashed with something curiously like hurt, but you were so busy examining the floor and your feet that you didn’t notice.

“Right,” you merely heard him say, stepping a little closer to you.

You decided to look up, and saw that his face was completely neutral. Even his eyes. He was completely masking any emotion. You knew Draco had studied some Occulumency, and that he was really quite good at it, but you had never seen his face quite so expressionless before.

“What if it makes things weird between us?” you barely whispered, biting your lip as you finally expressed your deepest fear about all of this with him.

Some emotion came back into his eyes – they thawed – and then he smiled a little, reassuringly. “It won’t,” he promised steadily. “Look, remember when our parents used to make us be in plays as kids?”

You just nodded mutely.

“The adults had to snog sometimes, remember? Some of the actors and actresses even were married to other people. I remember I asked my mother once why they didn’t mind, and she said because it wasn’t real. It’s for the story. They have to do it for the audience but then they just turn it off afterward. It’s just like that. We’re in a play and we’re having rehearsal.”

“Right,” you said, taking a deep breath, standing up straighter, and trying to be braver. “That’s a good analogy.”

“Well, obviously. I’m brilliant. What, you expected less from me?” he asked, fake pouting, and you smacked him on the chest, rolling your eyes, but he caught your arm and held it still, making your heart shoot into your throat and your entire body tense. He just smiled and rubbed his hand over your arm once, twice, in a soothing manner. “Relax. It’s just me. If it were a play it would be some stranger, right?”

_If I were in a play with that role, I would have kissed someone before_ , you wanted to say, but you didn’t.

This wasn’t how you imagined your first kiss. Practicing with your friend for a fake relationship that you were forced to have so that your parents wouldn’t marry you off to some stranger in some other country. Quite grim, really. You thought that maybe it would be magical. In the snow, maybe on the Hogwarts grounds somewhere, with some handsome boy that had asked you on a date and then let you wear his scarf because you were shivering.

Instead, you were standing in Draco’s living room, both of you still a little damp from the pool, as well as slightly tousled and covered in ash and soot from your journey in the Floo. Preparing for it like a scene in a play.

_Not real._

A sudden sadness filled you.

Because even if you had, at least for now, triumphed over your parents’ plan, they had still taken something away from you. And it must have shown on your face, because with one of his hands he reached forward and slowly laced his fingers with yours. “I’m sorry it has to be like this,” he said quietly.

“It’s okay.” You looked up at him and smiled. “Really. I’m sorry, too. You’re doing this to help me and I really appreciate it.”

He smiled back, a little sadly, and then he brought his other hand to cup the side of your neck. A curious tingling sensation spread out from where his fingers were touching your skin, and your breath caught in your throat, because you knew what was coming next. He leaned forward slowly, holding your gaze for a moment with a reassuring look in his eyes before closing them. 

For a second – half a second, a millisecond, really – you were aware of his eyelashes again, long and blonde, and remembered what they had looked like with the water droplets in them. And then you followed his lead, letting your eyes flutter closed, and then his lips were on yours.

It was only two seconds long, if that.

Just the brief pressure of his lips grazing gently against yours. Only enough time for you to register that he was warm and steady and tasted like the swimming pool, and then he was gone. And then you opened your eyes to meet his tentative gray ones, hovering only centimeters from yours.

“Okay?” he murmured, and you nodded.

“You taste like the pool,” you said, thoughtfully, and he just chuckled quietly, his warm breath tickling your face. It was really quite nice. It was like kissing a personification of summer. As far as first kisses go, you could have done a lot worse, even if it was technically a fake one.

“Do it again,” you said, after a few moments.

He didn’t lean in as slow this time, and everything was much more fluid.

Your eyes closed automatically when he came near, and his grip around the side of your neck tightened just a little, but not uncomfortably, holding you steady before he kissed you again. It was longer, too, and this one felt much more like moving caresses than a simple placing of his mouth on yours; three times he placed his mouth against yours, but very slowly. His fingertips were moving, too, grazing lightly against the skin on the side of your neck so that the tingling there intensified; and a newfound tingling began and expanded in your chest until he pulled his lips away, though his hand still lingered momentarily on your neck before he dropped it.

Overall, very pleasant. 

Very, _very_ pleasant, if you were being honest. You didn’t know what you had been so nervous about, but you were much more confident now about pulling this off than you had been before.

“I think that would be okay to do in public,” you told him finally, a little breathlessly, mostly for something to say to break the silence.

He just nodded. The gray color of his eyes seemed darker than usual, and he was searching your face, flicking more often to your lips, and suddenly you became very self-conscious. After all, you didn’t know what in the hell you had just been doing.

“Was I…okay?” you asked tentatively, biting your bottom lip.

He chuckled, rather hoarsely, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yes _._ ”

You relaxed a little. “Good. Okay, so…”

“Are you good on practice?” he asked. “I can kiss you in public now?”

Nodding, “Yes, I think that would be a good thing to do. Thank you.”

He just smiled at you. “Anytime. Want to go swim?”

“Definitely.”

He held out his arm to you. “Scene over, my lady?” he said, in a teasingly pompous voice and with a little bow, and you crooked your arm into his with a laugh, relieved. Everything was fine. Everything was still normal.

“Where have you two been off to?” Daphne asked, when you came back out to join her, Theo, and Blaise by the side of the pool.

You shared a quick look with Draco.

“Visiting Pansy,” you said, finally. “Wanted to make sure she’s okay.”

There was no mistaking the widening of Daphne’s eyes, the way she leaned forward imperceptibly at the mention of Pansy’s name. How had you not noticed that something was going on between them before? Merlin, were you really as oblivious as Pansy and Draco had suggested?

“Is she?” Daphne asked, biting her lip.

“Fine,” lied Draco, smoothly. “Just has a cold. We brought her some soup.”

“Oh, that’s…that’s good,” Daphne said, a little distractedly, and you and Draco shared another glance. “Glad she’s all right.”

The next pleasant hour and a half was spent either lounging around the pool, swimming and playing games like Marco Polo, trying to coax Theo into the pool, splashing at each other, or, in the case of Blaise and Draco, rough housing each other in the water. In the shallow end, you even played a game where the girls sat on the boys’ shoulders and tried to wrestle each other.

You and Draco were sure to hover near each other, never getting too far away from the other. He would reach out and take your hand to jump in together, pick you up, with you laughing and attempting to fight him off, to throw you into the pool, and sometimes tug you to his side by putting his hand around your waist. When you would both take a break from swimming and lounge by the side of the pool you sat down in front of him, leaning against his knees.

Once, when you were standing in the shallow end talking to Daphne, he swam up from behind you underwater, grabbed your calves, and pulled, and you went down with a loud shriek before it was cut off by your head going under the water. You emerged, sputtering indignantly, and saw him breaking the surface only inches away from you. When he saw the look on your face, he just laughed, smoothed his wet hair out of his face, placed both of his hands carefully on your cheeks, and leaned in to capture your mouth with his.

You froze, but only for a millisecond. It had taken you by surprise, that was all.

But then you relaxed into him, brought your hands up to grip onto his forearms, anchoring yourself; he responded by pressing his lips to yours again and again, with more fervor this time, both of you swaying slightly on the spot. It was much wetter this time, of course, and the sensation of his hands on your face, with his thumbs resting delicately on your cheekbones, was quite nice. When he finally broke away, he just winked at you and swam off, over to the deep end where Blaise was attempting to coax Theo into the water again.

“You two are really getting into this thing,” Daphne whispered to you, very quietly. She looked incredibly amused, but then she spotted something at the pool’s edge and raised her voice. “Oh, hey, Astoria! You’re finally here!”

Astoria Greengrass was indeed standing by the edge of the pool. She didn’t answer her sister, however; she was staring at you fixedly, eyes wide. “ _Wow_!” she said excitedly. “You are so _lucky_!”

“I think I mentioned she likes to look at Blaise, but did I mention she has a little crush on Draco, too?” Daphne murmured, leaning over sideways to say it into your ear, and you choked back a laugh.

“Er, thanks?” you answered, unsure what to respond.

Astoria just flounced off to the chairs and tables on the other side of the pool where Theo was sitting, presumably to get ready to get into the pool. As your eyes followed her, you caught Draco looking your direction with a smug grin on his face. He winked again, and you just shook your head at him, rolling your eyes at his vanity. And then you turned and whispered back to Daphne, “We have to. My dad suspects. What do you think? Believable?”

“Oh, very,” said Daphne under her breath, chortling. “But if you don’t mind me saying so, you probably should initiate some more affection. Draco’s doing all the hard work.” She gave you a significant look, and you realized that she was right.

You nodded. “Yes. I’ll keep that in mind.”

That was why, when the time came for the party to be over later that evening and for the guests to leave, and as everyone was doing the final chatting and saying their goodbyes, you pulled Draco off to the side, a little away from the others, placed your hands on his bare chest, stood on your tiptoes (really, how had you not noticed how tall he had gotten before?) and kissed him.

_The muscles_ _here feel nice_ , you thought rather dazedly, fingers pressing a little more into his skin as he responded by pulling you closer by the waist and tilting his head a little. It was quick, but left you feeling the warmest. He just smiled down at you afterward and tilted his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “I’ll see you at school next week,” he murmured, hands still on your waist. “You’ll write me?”

“Of course I will.” And then, deciding that your parents were probably within earshot and remembering Daphne’s advice, you were just about to open your mouth and tell him that you couldn’t wait to see him again – in the cheesiest voice you could possibly manage – but before you could do, so he was brushing some damp hair out of your face with gentle fingers and with some seriously convincing affection in his eyes before taking both your hands in his and squeezing them.

“I love you.”

His eyes were burning at you, and you blinked, incredibly taken aback.

Ah. Right. 

He had already said he loved you, hadn’t he? That night at the dinner party. So of course he had to continue on with it. Nice touch, too, saying it when the parents were maybe in earshot but you were still off by yourselves.

You smiled up at him like he was your entire world. He wasn’t going to be the only one that did such a good job at this, damn it. It was _your_ life on the line, after all, and you couldn’t be relying on his acting to carry the show.

“I love you too,” you replied easily, and you had stood up on your tiptoes again to kiss him one last time, as if you couldn’t get enough of him, but before it got anywhere you felt a tap on your shoulder and someone clearing their throat. You jolted in surprise, realizing that your parents and the Malfoys had come over to collect you and were standing right beside you.

“That’s enough,” your father said, gruffly.

“Teenagers,” your mother said, sharing a knowing look with Narcissa.

There was a final round of goodbyes, and then you were trailing behind your parents to go home, but not before one last peek over your shoulder at Draco, who was standing there and watching you walk away with a small smile.

And then he winked one final time, and you saw him mouth something.

He barely moved his lips, but you caught what words he had formed, the words meant to reassure that everything was all okay.

_Scene over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> language, intoxication, sexual themes, FLUFF, generic Fake Dating Trope “practicing for public” hopefully not done too generically, and again, so much general Reader innocence that your heart may burst


	4. Lines

Your parents were blissfully busy the rest of your summer vacation, and since you were no longer on house arrest you spent most of it roaming around outside or reading in your library.

The best thing, too, was that it was only your mother that accompanied you to King’s Cross Station on September 1st to catch the train that would take you to your sixth year in Hogwarts, seeing as your father had to work. So while you still had to greet Draco like a boyfriend and not a friend at the platform (read: with kissing and hand holding and plenty of looking into each other’s eyes), there wasn’t the same pressure to perform as there had been at the pool party.

The show couldn’t stop at Hogwarts, however. 

Already, you had seen other students eyeing your behavior on the platform, seen people excitedly whispering behind their hands, surely gossiping already about the newest relationship between two of Hogwarts’ Pureblooded aristocrat elite. You hated that their scrutinizing eyes were watching, almost as much as you hated your your parents’, but you tried to think of yourself as being on a stage again, which was still surprisingly helpful in grounding yourself for it.

You settled into a compartment with Draco, Daphne, Blaise, and Theo, awaiting Pansy, but the train started moving and she hadn’t shown up. Even a few minutes later, after waving to the parents and leaving the station, she still hadn’t arrived.

“Where’s Pansy?” Daphne asked from beside you, in a forced casual voice.

You glanced up at Draco, who was seated across from you, whose eyes flickered a little with concern, but then he just shrugged. “Terrorizing someone from a younger year for chipping one of her nails when they bumped into her?”

Just then, the compartment door slid open, and Pansy’s dark eyes swept over you all with a small, brief smile. Her body was still hovering out in the aisle, however, and she merely said, “Milli has a compartment a few doors down. Crabbe and Goyle are there. I’ll be over there. See you all at school.”

And then the door shut, and she was gone.

You chanced a glance at Daphne out of the corner of your eye, and her disappointment was palpable. She was furrowing her eyebrows together and biting her bottom lip, clearly distressed. Feeling slightly panicked, you looked to Draco, wishing you knew what to do or say.

It was, however, Theo that spoke up first. He was grinning between you and Draco, having picked up on your covert glances. “Blaise and Daphne and I can leave and give you some alone time, if the lovebirds are wanting to get some snogging in,” he teased, and Blaise snickered.

Draco just rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Theodore,” he drawled.

“Your parents buy that whole act, Y/N?” Blaise asked.

“My father didn’t at first. He seems like he believes it more now.”

“What about good ol’ Mom and Pop Malfoy?” asked Theo, and a reluctant smile finally spread over Daphne’s face, which you considered worth a few jokes at your and Draco’s expense. “What do they think about this new match?”

“My mother knows I was covering for her,” said Draco, shrugging. “And she doesn’t care. She wants to help. You should have heard her after, raving about arranging her marriage with strangers, and when you were so young.” He looked at you, grinning. “She was positively furious on your behalf.”

“Your father?” Daphne asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” said Draco, slowly. “He doesn’t seem displeased, exactly…”

You frowned. Lucius Malfoy keeping silent on the matter was interesting, indeed. Still, you had a hard time seeing him not knowing if his wife did.

The conversation moved to other matters – the usual Hogwarts-bound train ride topics, such as classes, new professors, Quidditch, things to look forward to, or rehashing old complaints about professors or certain assignments.

Every couple of minutes, Daphne’s eyes would glance hopefully at the door.

* * *

The first month of Hogwarts raced by at light speed, or so it felt, bringing chilly weather with it and the beginning of the month of October.

The first week of school had easily been the worst.

Eyes and whispers and giggling had followed you and Draco wherever you went, or so it had felt to you. You had to grit your teeth and try and ignore it. You kept your interactions simple, but frequent; he held your hand as you walked to class, would sometimes wrap an easy arm around your shoulders while you stood around in the courtyard between classes, talking, and you had gotten into the habit of leaning against him on the couch in some way while you both did homework. Sometimes you shared light kisses, usually to depart for classes or occasionally while sitting in the Common Room, but they were always quick and brief, which suited you just fine. All those prying eyes didn’t need to see more than that to think he was your boyfriend, and you didn’t have to go over the top here at Hogwarts.

Quidditch practice began, which meant that Draco was spending fewer hours in the Common Room and you were spending more and more time with Daphne, seeing as Pansy was still being evasive and distant. She still spent some time with you as a group, but she seemed to be actively avoiding it and was instead spending more and more time with Millicent Bulstrode; every time they walked through the Common Room together and you were with Daphne, you saw her gaze follow Pansy, her eyes a mixture of reproachful and hopeful.

One night in the second week of October, after picking up a book in the library, you were heading down to see if Draco was finished with Quidditch practice so maybe you’d have company for the walk back to the Common Room. You came around the corner and bumped, quite literally, into Draco’s chest. He was carrying his broomstick over his shoulder, his pale blonde hair windswept and the cold still coloring his cheeks, and he grinned upon seeing you.

“Hey you,” he said happily, leaning down and pressing his lips briefly to yours.

Which would have been normal by now, really, and it _was_ , except that there was absolutely no one else around and no reason to do it.

He just kept beaming at you as you blinked up at him, stunned. He hadn’t even realized what he had done. “Where are you going? The Common Room is this way.” He pointed over your shoulder, the direction he was heading.

“I was coming to meet you,” you told him, deciding to discard the strange occurrence, and his smile grew wider.

Your chest expanded and grew warm at seeing his eyes light up like this; at seeing his simple delight at the fact that you had merely thought to come accompany him with a walk. You realized, rather unwillingly, that he looked _good_ at the moment. His post-Quidditch dishevelment suited him.

“Come on, then,” he said, and you fell into step beside him in the corridor.

“Good practice? You’re practically radiating joy over there,” you teased.

“ _Great_ ,” he said, grinning. “I almost did a Wronski Feint.”

You couldn’t help but smile again at the sheer pleasure he could derive from something like being able to do a move in Quidditch, something you would never understand. “Well, I know you’ll have it perfected soon,” you said confidently, and you were rewarded with another one of those truly dazzling smiles of his that were preciously rare and that you found you wanted to make happen more often.

A figure came around the corner then, nearing you in the corridor. You didn’t pay it much attention, even when they were about to pass directly by you, but when you heard your name being said, tentatively, you stopped and looked at the speaker. “Hey! Y/N? That’s your name, right?”

It was a boy from Gryffindor. He wasn’t in your year, but he was tall; even taller than Draco, and you thought he might be a seventh year. And he was…breathtaking, really. You mentally checked to make sure your mouth was still closed. Thankfully it was, but you could already feel your cheeks beginning to heat up under his friendly gaze and kind eyes.

“Yes,” you said, smiling a little nervously.

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but do you have a date for the first Hogsmeade trip? The one on Halloween?”

“Oh – um…” Your heart sank like a stone, right into the pit of your stomach, and you cursed your parents into the depths of hell for taking away your freedom to date normally. You were grateful to Draco, of course, and you knew that he too was making sacrifices to keep up with this arrangement, but it was so unfair…

“Yes,” said Draco suddenly, from beside you. “She does. It’s me.”

The Gryffindor’s eyes darted between the two of you. “Ah. Right. Sorry about that, mate, meant no disrespect. I didn’t know.”

Draco just raised a sardonic eyebrow, as if he didn’t quite believe him.

The boy didn’t budge yet, however. His eyes just moved to you again and he simply stood there and stared at you with a bit of a stupid grin on his face, looking a little dazed, and under his intense scrutiny you gave him a shy smile.

“But you know _now_ ,” Draco said after a few moments, very loudly and voice distinctly unfriendly. When you looked at him, you saw that all traces of his radiant Quidditch smiles were gone. “So…?”

The other boy jumped a little. “Right. Well…” He put up a hand, giving you both an awkward little wave, and continued on down the corridor. You both watched him go and saw him glance over at you one more time over his shoulder before he turned the corner. You struggled to contain your wistful sigh.

Draco scoffed. “As if he didn’t know,” he muttered, turning on his heel and beginning to walk away so that you had to hurry to keep up again.

“Don’t be like that, he was being perfectly nice,” you protested, frowning.

He shot you a scathing look. “I could tell that you wanted to say yes.”

“Well I – “ It seemed like bad taste to say that you _did_ want to say yes, but why shouldn’t you? The scene was over, wasn’t it? “Yes. I suppose I wish I could have. I don’t like that my parents have taken that option away…from both of us.” And then you grinned and nudged him with your elbow, trying to lighten the mood a little. “And besides, at the end of summer I thought you said you couldn’t even tell when I was interested in someone. What happened to that?”

“There’s a first for everything, it seems,” he muttered.

He was quiet the rest of the way to the Common Room, and you kept giving him discrete glances, trying to decipher his sudden change in mood. But it seemed that wasn’t the only surprise you were going to receive before you reached the Common Room, because upon turning the next corner, a few paces away now from the portrait hole, were Daphne and Pansy.

They had clearly been somewhere together and were returning to the Common Room, and they jumped a little upon seeing you and Draco approaching. You distinctly saw the motion of them pulling their hands apart.

“Oh! Draco! Y/N!” exclaimed Daphne, laughing a little nervously. “So funny seeing you here, we were…”

“Off snogging,” finished Pansy, and Daphne’s eyes widened and she looked at Pansy in slight horror, letting out a strangled sort of choking sound that was so funny that you and Draco both burst into laughter. “They knew a while ago, Daphne,” said Pansy, nudging her with a grin. “It’s okay.”

“Glad to see it’s worked out,” said Draco, looking smug and, you were glad to see, looking happy again. “What was that about bad advice, Pansy?”

“God, how did I know you would take the first opportunity to brag, Draco?” she said, rolling her eyes. “You are so bloody predictable.”

“Hey!” he exclaimed indignantly, as you all fell into step together to walk the last stretch to the portrait hole and climb through to the Common Room.

You giggled at the offense on Draco’s face and then gestured to the couches in front of the fireplace, which were completely free seeing as it was so late. “Homework?” you said. “I still have to finish that essay for McGonagall.” You brandished the book you were carrying to emphasize your point.

“Me too,” said Daphne, but Pansy shook her head.

“I’m done and I’m tired. Night,” she said, wandering off to the staircase.

You looked at Draco expectantly, but he also shook his head, slowly. “I’ll finish it tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”

“Tomorrow? But –”

“Goodnight,” he said abruptly, giving you both a small smile before also retiring to the staircase. 

You stared after him, more than a little confused, not to mention feeling the strangest pang in your chest. Even after Quidditch practice he always did some homework with you. It had almost become like a nightly routine for the both of you; if there were others around and you had to look like his girlfriend, you sometimes curled up against his side as you scribbled an essay, or he would occasionally play with your hair with lazy fingers as he read a book.

“Everything okay?” Daphne asked, noting your long silence.

You shook yourself a little. “Yes. Of course. Pansy, huh?” you asked her mischievously, as you both settled onto the couch together, and Daphne’s blush lit up her face in the flickering of the flames of the fireplace.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she said, anxiously. “Not that I think you will, but our parents wouldn’t…they wouldn’t approve, you know….”

“My lips are sealed,” you promised her. “Strange, isn’t it? Now you have a secret relationship that you can’t show the world, and I have a fake relationship that I have to flaunt to the world.”

She sighed. “I know. Can’t just be normal for us, can it?”

“I suppose not,” you answered, shaking your head in dismay.

“How’s that going, by the way?” Daphne asked curiously. “I don’t think I’ve asked. Isn’t it exhausting? You know, always checking to see if people are around to see how you and Draco have to act?”

“A little,” you said.

“What’s it like?” Daphne pressed. “Is it weird, doing all that with him?”

“No,” you answered, shrugging. “It was a little bit at first, I suppose. Now it’s just…normal.” You bit you lip, now thinking of the kiss that Draco had given you in that completely empty corridor.

“What are you thinking about?” Daphne was watching you shrewdly.

“Um,” you began, unsure how to phrase it. “Maybe a little too normal.”

She looked intrigued. “What does that mean?”

You hesitated. “I met him in the corridor. After I went to the library just now. He was on his way back from Quidditch practice. And you know how he kisses me at breakfast in the morning, to greet me, or to say goodbye, sometimes…” Daphne nodded slowly, still looking at you very intently, and you stumbled over your next words. “Well, he kind of…did that. Only…we were alone.”

She blinked, surprised, and you hastily added, “Not on purpose! He didn’t even realize it, I think. I think it was just, you know…a habit.”

Daphne shifted in her seat a little to face you, her expression more serious. “Y/N,” she said quietly, “You need to be very careful.”

For some inexplicable reason, your heart rate sped up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said patiently, “Where’s the line? It’s bound to get blurry in a situation like this, that’s all. Just…be aware of that, okay? Both of you.”

“It was just an accident,” you argued, shaking your head. “Things are still always normal when we’re alone.” The interaction with the Gryffindor boy popped in your head, and a small, traitorous voice in your brain whispered that hadn’t been entirely normal behavior on Draco’s part either, but you pushed that thought away. “We know our lines, Daph,” you continued. “But thanks for the advice anyway.”

She just gave you a small smile. “Okay. If you say so.” She then sighed and began shuffling around in her bag to pull out parchment and quill. “We should probably get started if we want to finish this tonight, right?”

You just nodded with an irritated little groan, reaching for your bag and your mind now on the essay rather than the interactions from the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: language, slight sexual scenes


	5. Feverish

The next two weeks, there was an excited buzz about Hogwarts.

Halloween was coming, which meant a feast, and for the older students, it meant the first Hogsmeade visit. The first Quidditch games would be underway after that, too, which meant that everyone seemed to have something to look forward to, and it also meant that Draco was becoming more and more wrapped up in his responsibilities to the Quidditch team.

It was strange not seeing him as much, and even stranger because of his rather distant behavior lately.

Since that night in the Common Room where he had gone to bed without doing his homework, you felt like you barely saw him, and you hadn’t spent any time with him alone. You knew that Quidditch was keeping him very busy, along with Prefect duties alongside everything else (the professors seemed determined to give the 6th years as much homework as humanly possible), but you also got the distinct feeling that he was avoiding you.

His eyes were still warm and happy when he saw you around others. He still held your hand to classes, carried your books, and slipped his arm around your waist when your group stood around, talking. But you couldn’t shake the feeling.

The Tuesday before the weekend of Halloween, you woke feeling a rasp in your chest, a sore throat, and with your head feeling foggier than usual. By that evening, you were feeling so terrible that you retired to bed before dinner.

By the next morning, the situation had only worsened.

In fact, when you blearily looked at the clock beside your bed, you noted that you had missed breakfast and your first lesson. Instead, you had slept far, far too late. And when you made to stand up, you were so dizzy that you had to grip the bedpost to keep from falling over. “Oh, come _on_ ,” you huffed angrily, annoyed, but it hurt your chest so badly to speak that you closed your mouth immediately and stumbled your way to the staircase, which took double the amount of usual time since you were so unsteady on your feet and the stairs kept swirling in your vision. Plus, you felt far too hot, and then it would switch and you would become absolutely freezing. Your muscles, too, were beginning to ache.

_The flu_ , you thought, vaguely. _This has to be the flu._ _Or pneumonia._ _Shit._

The Common Room was empty when you arrived – probably everyone was in class, or maybe heading to their next lesson – and you tried to stagger over to the portrait hole, with the intent to try and get to the Hospital Wing. But you began shivering violently from another sudden wave of chills, and you never made it to the portrait hole. In fact, you hadn’t even taken any actual steps. You had only stood, glued there at the bottom of the stairway, hand outstretched and brain hazy.

Another hot flash overtook you, and the room tilted dangerously.

You tilted with it, and crashed right to the floor – and then lay there, shivering.

The sound of the portrait hole opening invaded your consciousness some time later, but only vaguely, and you didn’t tie that concept with a person entering the room. Your brain was having difficulty stringing thoughts and concepts together. Everything was too jumbled and foggy. Plus, you were now too hot again.

It wasn’t until you heard quick footsteps cross the room and a voice over you that you fully realized you weren’t alone. “Y/N? Y/N, are you all right?”

Distantly, you recognized this as Draco, and you relaxed a little. This was so much better than some stranger coming in here and seeing you like this. You peeked up from where your head was tucked into your knees, and his concerned face swam in front of you. You realized he was kneeling beside you. “Water,” you croaked, wincing at how much this single word burned your throat.

Immediately he was on his feet, and back within seconds with a glass of water. The room tilted again when you tried to sit up to drink it, and he had to hold you in place so that you could do so. You let out a contented little sigh at how nice it felt on your burning throat, and then promptly went limp again, not even resisting falling to the ground due to the spinning of the room. But you didn’t fall; Draco’s arms were now supporting you, holding you steady.

“Holy shit,” you heard him breathe, after placing the back of his hand on your forehead. “Merlin, Y/N, you’re burning up…”

“But I’m cold,” you rasped, and indeed you were freezing again, feeling the tremors now violently ripping through your entire body.

You felt his grip on you tighten, felt his hands move your hair out of your face, moving his thumbs over your cheeks. “Fuck, you’re…you’re _really_ sick. No wonder you didn’t come to class. Or dinner last night. We need to go to the Hospital Wing. Now.” You distinctly saw him run a hand through his hair, which he always did when he was worried; and for a single second, his gray, concerned, fearful eyes were burned clear in your vision, peering down at you, a lot closer than you had expected and gazing intently at your face.

And then your vision went blurry again, and you slumped forward onto his chest with a little moan of misery. “Can’t walk…Draco,” you mumbled, hoarsely. “Too…dizzy. Everything…spins. Blurry.”

“It’s all right,” he said, his voice rather strained. “I’ll get you there.”

“Don’t…want to…go,” you whimpered. It felt like such a long way now. All you wanted was to go back to your bed. Every muscle was burning. You never should have left your bed in the first place.

“You need to,” you heard him say, sounding distant again. “Here.” You felt him take your arms and place them around his own neck – your hands just hung there loosely, however, since your muscles felt so weak, and he let out a concerned little puff of air, which you felt on your cheek. “Can you hold on, Y/N?”

You tried to nod, tried to tighten your hands again, and felt that you had a little bit of energy that you could use to hold on to his neck. You felt him lift you off the ground and you chanced a glance down; the ground was still tilting and spinning menacingly, and you squeezed your eyes shut, really regretting the decision to look down. Your body hurt so much by this point that you felt tears slipping out of your eyes, but still, you clung to his neck with a certain ferocity.

“Fuck,” you heard him swear quietly, tightening his grip on you and pulling you even closer to his chest. “Fuck, don’t cry…what hurts, love?”

Even in your muddled, fever-ridden mind, you wondered if someone had entered the room and that was why he had used the term of endearment. You found you didn’t care one way or the other right now.

“Muscles.” Your voice was only a faint whisper.

He began to walk, and you kept your eyes squeezed shut and tried not to focus on how the movements were making you feel nauseous. Even in your state of partial delirium, you realized two things. The first was how much you had missed having him around the past two weeks, and how much you had hated the feeling of the empty, fake boyfriend interactions without the other real ones. The second was that he smelled like sandalwood, and it was soothing.

“It’s okay,” he breathed, as he clambered with difficulty out of the portrait hole, still holding you tightly. “The medicine will help…won’t be long…”

“Long way,” you croaked, after a bit. “Stairs. Can’t…carry me.”

“Yes, I can,” he replied, rather fiercely.

And true to his word, he did. Though you were mostly out of it for most of the journey, you did have your wits about you enough to realize the point when you had entered the Hospital Wing, and that Draco was panting with the effort of carrying you across the castle. You sincerely hoped most people were in class and had not seen you in this state, but the thought was erased from your jumbled mind when you heard Madame Pomfrey’s voice, a surprised squawk. “Merlin’s beard, boy, did you carry her all the way up here? A teacher could have levitated her!”

“She’s really sick,” was all Draco said, and you were aware of his chest heaving against you as he tried to catch his breath. “She needs…medicine…please, hurry…”

All of the sudden, you were no longer in Draco’s arms. Someone was talking at length, but you didn’t understand what they were saying. You were hovering above the ground instead and everything was tilting and swirling. Very frightened now, you let out a little cry and reached out for his neck again, fumbling in the air, but then you felt yourself lying on a soft surface, and he was there above you, his hand in yours. You realized that you were sobbing, tears streaming down your face due to the ache in your bones, and that you were cold and shivering again.

“It’s all right,” Draco was mumbling, running his thumb over your hand. “Shh…” With his other hand, he swept hair out of your face and ran his thumbs systematically over of your cheekbones, swiping the tears away.

“Hurts,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut.

You felt his fingers still brushing tears from your cheeks, and then stroking your hair. “I know,” he said quietly, sounding very strained again. “But you’re getting a potion now. Don’t worry. It’ll work quickly, but there will be a little sting…”

You felt a miniature stabbing sensation in your arm, and gasped a little, squirming on the hospital bed, and his grip on your hand tightened. “See? That’s all,” he murmured, desperately rubbing your hands with both of his now. “That’s all, Y/N, it’s over, and now you’ll feel much better when you wake up…”

For a moment, you had a brief spasm of panic. Your eyes flew open, and you gazed wildly at him, eyes cloudy with illness. “Don’t go,” you pleaded hoarsely. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never,” he promised steadily, with eyes somehow very gentle and also incredibly intense. “I’m not going anywhere. Just sleep, Y/N…”

You didn’t really have a choice. Already, whatever was being put in your arm was taking effect, and it was powerful. In less than ten seconds, you were fading, and then being pulled completely into darkness.

* * *

Strange dreams took hold of you as you slept.

Whispers, or sometimes stronger voices – even a heated argument once – were playing right in your ear, curling about in your mind and then latching on like the tendrils of Devil’s Snare, repeating, echoing…

“ _You know I have to ask you to leave,” a shrill woman’s voice was saying._

“ _No,” came the curt reply._

“ _Might I remind you that you have classes?”_

“ _My professors will just have to give me detention, then, because I promised I’d stay, I’m not causing any problems, and so I’m staying.”_

“ _How dare you talk to me that way, young man…”_

And then –

“ _Top quality acting_ ,” a male voice said, and it sounded teasing. “ _The concerned boyfriend carrying her all the way through the_ _bloody_ _castle. I’d say that’s some serious commitment to the role_ …”

“ _Shut up_ ,” another male voice replied, brusquely and rather bitterly. “ _I wasn’t about to leave her to go and find a teacher. She was_ _crying_.”

And then – perhaps minutes, or hours, or days later; it didn’t matter, there was no time here – there was another voice, a scathing female one this time.

“… _all over the school_ , _all the girls are_ _already_ _being positively revolting about the whole thing, gushing over him, creaming their fucking drawers,_ _I swear_ _…_ _you should hear them…‘Ohh, he must be so_ _oo_ _strong,’…_ _I heard one even mention sending in the story to Witch Weekly, and at that point I had to interfere, you know…got detention_ _for the hex_ _, but_ _it was_ _so_ _worth it…”_

A feminine giggle, a soft one. And then – more indeterminable time later, that same female voice that had giggled, quiet and mild. Tentative.

“ _It’s real for you, isn’t it?”_

_No reply. Just a noncommittal grunt._

“ _From the beginning?” the same female voice pressed._

_A clear scowl could be heard in the tone of the answer. “No. Yes.” More frustration. “I don’t really know. Didn’t realize it until…recently, at least.”_

_The girl’s voice was barely a whisper, fading away. “Why don’t you tell her?”_

_Tell her…_

_Tell her…_

It repeated, over and over, gripping to your mind even in your state of unconsciousness. Your brain clung to it, because it was something important, wasn’t it? It was something that meant something, or would, when you woke…

But when you finally woke up, you had no recollection of the voices at all.

Instead, your mind felt blank. Blank, but rested. You were also pleased to note that your body wasn’t aching as it had before.

You opened your eyes.

You were in the Hospital Wing. All the other beds were empty. And there was Draco, eyes widening as he came to the realization that you were awake. He looked tired; the light fading into the room told you that it was evening. He leaned forward anxiously and took your hand, even though no one was there.

You didn’t mind. You had missed real time with him so much, the past two weeks. You hadn’t realized just how much until now.

“Y/N,” he whispered, squeezing your hand. “How do you feel?”

“Okay,” you said, honestly, though your throat was still burning. And even though your muscles weren’t aching with quite so much pain anymore, you still felt limp and exhausted. “Bit tired.”

“The others told me to let you know that they’d be back soon,” he said, squeezing your hands a little. “They went to dinner…”

“You didn’t go?” you asked, confused.

“You told me to stay,” he said, a little stubbornly. “Don’t you remember?”

Shaking your head slowly, heart fluttering, you said, “Not really, no.” With your other hand, you reached up almost automatically to your fiery throat.

“Here.” He handed you a glass of water, and you were pleased to note that you could at least sit up in the bed and drink it without feeling too dizzy. “Don’t talk more,” he suggested, taking the glass when you were done and setting it back on the bedside table before sweeping his eyes over you again. “Just relax.”

You simply nodded and leaned back on the pillows again with a sigh.

“Madame Pomfrey said that you’ll need to be here until Friday,” he informed you. “By then you’ll be back to your regular self.” His thumb moved almost absentmindedly across your hand, and you felt the fluttering in your heart flare up with a renewed vigor. You just nodded, but found yourself observing him, your eyes really sweeping over him for what felt like…the first time, really.

His hair was so _interesting_ in the moonlight. So bright, and beautiful, really. And his face – how had you not noticed it before? – was handsome. All sharp lines, and a hard jawline, angular features, and…those eyes.

You supposed you _had_ noticed before, or at least had known that others thought these things about him. You had always known, after all, that plenty of girls at the school wanted Draco Malfoy, but for the first time you were beginning to really understand firsthand why that might be.

You blinked, and then found your eyes roaming almost unconsciously to his arms, his shoulders, and his chest. He had to be strong too, right? To carry you like that. You suddenly remembered the muscles rippling in his back as he had swam in the pool. Despite having a slimmer build compared to some boys, clearly training for Quidditch had done some good things for him.

And then you heard Daphne’s voice in your head.

_Where’s the line?_

Shaking yourself a little, you decided that the line was probably precisely here. You closed your eyes, mostly because looking at him was getting too confusing, but also because having your eyes open was still quite exhausting.

When the others came from dinner a few minutes later, he withdrew his hand.

You couldn’t decide if you were sad or relieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: language, sexual themes


	6. The Interview

Friday came soon enough, and you were regretful that you had to return to classes, though luckily you only had a day before the weekend began. Unfortunately, you would be busy most of Saturday, and you had so much homework to catch up on due to being so sick in the Hospital Wing that you were already well aware just how dreadful Sunday was going to be.

As it turned out, your Saturday in Hogsmeade wasn’t going to be quite as nice as you would have wanted it to be, either, because that morning an owl fluttered to your plate, bringing you a letter from your mother.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you snapped, throwing it at Draco to read.

He was in his usual spot by your side for breakfast, and things had more or less returned to normal after your stint in the Hospital Wing. You told yourself that you had probably just been imagining things; that he had just been busy, and you had been being overly sensitive due to becoming so used to his presence. Regardless, you were happy things were like this again, especially when taking into consideration the letter you had just received.

“Huh,” he said finally, setting it down beside his plate, lips pursed. “Quite rude of her. I don’t suppose we’ll be able to get out of it?”

“No,” you said, bitterly. “She’ll have made sure of that, and I’m sure my father would lose his entire damn mind if I skived it off…”

“Then we’ll do it, and quickly,” said Draco, firmly.

And so it was that when arriving in the village of Hogsmeade, instead of going with your friends to Zonko’s first thing as had been the original plan, you and Draco separated from the others, with promises to meet them at the Three Broomsticks after, and reluctantly followed the path to Madame Puddifoot’s tea shop, where your mother had written _she_ would be waiting for you.

Before going inside, Draco took your hand and halted you right in front of the windows, in full view of everyone in the shop. You turned, and he leaned in to kiss you. It was quite nice, kissing him in the cold like this, because you found that his mouth was warm on yours and it took the chill away. And, you noted with interest, the tingling in your chest was stronger now. 

Huh. 

Though really, it might have been because he was kissing you so long, and so deeply. He hadn’t kissed you like this since the pool party.

_Setting the stage_ , you thought, but still, you felt a little dazed when he pulled away. “Ready?” he murmured, straightening your scarf and smiling.

“As I’ll ever be,” you sighed.

And with that, you walked hand in hand into the shop. She was indeed waiting for you, wearing horrid bright pink robes and with long, pink nails to match. Her Quick Quotes Quill was out, and it seemed to be already vibrating with excitement. You fought hard not to glare at her, and you thought you were able to stifle it. 

But you also couldn’t quite manage a charming smile, as Draco could. At best, yours was awkward and forced.

You despised Rita Skeeter. She had written plenty of stories about “the Elite” over the years, as she had dubbed your families, and she always tried to find something scandalous. Often she succeeded. Why your mother was so attention starved that she thought this had been a good idea was beyond you.

“Oh, marvelous!” Rita exclaimed, standing excitedly and shaking both of your hands with glee and a hungry look in her eye that you did not like one bit. “Y/N, darling, when your mother wrote me to suggest that we do this interview I was positively _delighted_ – the world loves nothing more than reading about the juicy lives of our elite! And _what_ a story you two have!”

“Um,” was all you could you could say, and Draco cut in quickly.

“Shall we sit?” he asked, suddenly a perfect model of an aristocrat gentleman.

“Oh yes, yes, I’m sure you two have other _activities_ to get to today,” she said, winking, and you shot a furtive look of displeasure at Draco, who just pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at your expression.

Madame Puddifoot bustled over; you all ordered tea, and then Rita leaned forward excitedly, her Quill hovering beside her and pointing rather menacingly at Draco’s face. You felt him nudge your leg, and remembered that you should appear charming and graceful, so you straightened your spine and forced yourself to try and smile again, though it was almost painful to do so.

“So,” Rita said happily, “You two have known each other for how long?”

“Since we were children,” you said.

“Ah, so you were always close,” she said, sighing a little wistfully.

“Actually,” said Draco, shooting you a grin and eyes dancing, “When we were children we fought all the time.”

“Oh, how delightfully adorable!” she exclaimed, and the quill began zooming across the page. You eyed it warily, but kept the fake smile pasted on your face all the same. “You know what they say, when little boys pick on little girls, they’ve got a little crush.” Draco just shrugged, giving her a conciliatory smile. “And when did you become a couple?” she pressed.

“End of last year,” answered Draco immediately, and you relaxed, because you hadn’t remembered what he had told your parents that night at the dinner party.

For some reason, this information seemed to electrify Rita. She looked up, her eyes glinting with excitement. “ _Really_ ,” she said, giving Draco a smile that was almost like a leer. “How positively enlightening.” When her eyes were back on the Quick Quotes Quill for a second, you and Draco exchanged looks of confusion.

“Y/N,” Rita said, looking up and at you with a smile and her eyes glittering in a way that made your chest clench with panic, “Young Mr. Malfoy is obviously a very eligible bachelor. One of the most eligible, isn’t that so? The highest standing and oldest Pureblood family in England, and of course, there’s all that wealth. Do these factors contribute to your decision to date him?”

You felt your blood run hot, and your face contorted a little, but when you felt Draco’s hand on yours – both a warning and a reassurance – you relaxed again, forcing a smile on your face. “I couldn’t care less about his name, and I don’t care about his money,” you said, flatly.

_Not like my bitch mother, Rita, so why don’t you go ask her this question?_

“Of course,” said Rita, eyes on her notes again momentarily before coming back to you with a condescending little smile that made you want to tear her throat out. “Naturally you see past these things, don’t you? Tell me, what is it that attracts you to him? Just who is the man behind the Malfoy name?”

“I –” You faltered, looking rather helplessly at Draco.

_You’d better get used to the idea of saying he’s your type, and sounding believable for the reasons that you give when you do._

Pansy’s warning rang through your head. You never thought it would have been quite this relevant. You cursed yourself for not preparing better for this.

Draco just smiled and gave your hand another reassuring squeeze before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, lingering a moment before pulling away and saying to Rita, “She gets quite shy. Don’t you, love?”

You just nodded mutely, a surge of affection violently squeezing your chest. 

Merlin, he was so good at this. 

Buying you time, showing affection while doing so, giving a great excuse for your inability to formulate an answer. And thankfully, Rita seemed to eat it up. “Oh, that’s quite all right! But come on, dear, the world is dying to know.”

“I…um.” You glanced over at Draco, who was still smiling and watching you intently. “Well, he’s…nice-looking,” you said, eyes sweeping over him as the words came tumbling out. “He’s really tall and strong and…has nice eyes.” His mouth quirked up at one corner, clearly amused; and then, hastily, knowing that maybe you would sound too shallow if you only focused on his looks, you added, rather fiercely and with cheeks flaming, “But more importantly, he’s smart and funny. I trust him. He’s always there to help me with anything I need. I can always rely on him.”

His gaze was very intense now, and then he reached out and pulled you to his chest in a tight embrace, placing a soft kiss your forehead. “I love you.”

That strange fluttering in your chest happened again, faster than ever before, and you felt your face grow even warmer when you answered, “I love you, too.”

“My, this is precious,” said Rita, and indeed, her eyes were practically bulging out of her skull with excitement and the quill was skating over the parchment. “Oh, they’re going to love this. But of course, we still need a little juicy scandal.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, eyes twinkling. “Tell me everything about that dinner party where you fought with her parents and revealed your relationship, Draco.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting this path of conversation, but he composed himself quickly and brought his face to neutral, as he was so good at doing.

“Well,” he said slowly, eyes focused on her still scribbling Quick Quotes Quill, “I saw how upset she was. And it made me upset. And I was afraid…” Suddenly he turned to look at you, his eyes piercing you with an earnestness that made your breath catch, and his face was suddenly rather thoughtful. “I was afraid I’d lose her forever. So I had to say and do _something_.”

Automatically, you reached for his hand and gripped it tight. Just the horrible thought of the other possible trajectory for your life gave you chills, and made you grateful for him all over again.

“Of _course_ you did,” Rita replied, smiling widely, and Draco turned to give her a polite smile, but even with his gaze off of you, you still felt jittery. “Well then, what about you, Draco? I hear that Y/N comes across as rather… _severe_.” She looked at you with a simpering smile that made you want to strangle her anew, or perhaps throw the hot tea in her face. “So what caught your eye about her?”

Draco’s eyes slid slowly to you again; the jittery feeling expanded to your stomach and multiplied when he squeezed your hand. “She’s smart,” he said, quietly. “She’s loyal, and funny, and…stunning.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it.

_It’s not real_ , you reminded yourself fiercely. _  
_

“Really, truly wonderful,” he continued, and you found that you couldn’t look away from his eyes: like beautiful, melted iron. “And she has no idea. That’s the funniest part about it. She’s completely oblivious.” He shook his head and said to Rita, in a bit of a mumble now, “She still doesn’t truly understand, I think. What I’d do for her.”

You couldn’t speak. You just stared at him, wide-eyed and positively floored by his performance, the perfect vision of a girl stunned by the words of her boyfriend. You jumped a little at hearing the aggressive scratching of Rita’s Quick Quotes Quill. You turned to Rita as well, and you distinctly heard how Draco cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind,” he said, very pleasantly, his voice back to his regular, distinct drawl, “We’d like to meet our friends now, Rita…”

“Oh, of course,” she said, and though the quill was still flying wildly across the page, she stood to shake hands with you over your barely touched cups of tea. Draco threw some notes on the counter to pay, gave her one more polite smile, and slipped an arm around your shoulders to guide you from the shop.

Once outside he walked with you a few shops down the street until he finally stopped, turning you by the shoulders and gripping them tightly. He was staring down at you carefully, and you found that you were expecting him to kiss you. That it would have made sense. There _were_ still others around, after all.

But he just straightened your scarf again, with a small smile. “Scene over?” he murmured, very quietly, the cold air puffing out in clouds in front of his face.

_Yes_ , you told yourself. _Yes._ _Scene over.  
_

You swallowed the lump in your throat and just gave him a grateful, radiant smile. “Yes,” you agreed, nodding. “Scene over.”

But as you walked beside him to the Three Broomsticks you realized that – despite the fact that those two words were things you had both said to each other often, and despite the fact that it had always been something meant to reassure, to make each other confident and relaxed in your friendship again – this was the first time that you had felt a sharp pang in your chest upon hearing them.

* * *

“ _There_ you are,” said Pansy, when you and Draco entered the Three Broomsticks hand in hand and slid into the table with your group of friends. “We ordered you Butterbeers already, look.” She pushed them across the table at you, and you both accepted them gratefully.

“How was Skeeter?” asked Theo, arching an eyebrow.

“Her usual bitchy self,” you answered, glumly. “Insinuated I was into Draco for his name and his money. Pried for a bunch of details we don’t have.”

Draco just shrugged, taking a careful sip, and you missed the look that he shared with Daphne over the brim of his glass due to the fact that you were scowling into your cup.

“Well, here’s something that’ll cheer you both up,” said Blaise, grinning. “Rager tonight. Room of Requirement. I’m supplying, so you know it’ll be good.”

“Supplying what?” you asked curiously, frowning.

“ _Alcohol_ , Y/N. Merlin, sometimes I forget how innocent you are,” Blaise said, grinning, and Theo snickered.

“I’m not _innocent_ ,” you replied, despising the fact that everyone was pressing their lips together to keep from laughing. You glanced at Draco indignantly, half expecting at least him to come to your defense, but he, too, was looking amused, and just shot you an apologetic sort of look.

“Prove it,” drawled Blaise, with a bit of a challenging grin.

And because you were so tired of being told you were a prude, or you were innocent, and because you were curious about alcohol anyway, you tilted your chin up defiantly. “You’re on, Blaise. I’ll drink you all under the table.”

Everyone burst into laughter except Daphne, who was biting her lip hard and just smiling at you, but clearly wanting to giggle.

“Oh Merlin,” said Pansy finally, and very gleefully, “I need to get her drunk. That would be fucking hilarious to see. That’s it. This is my mission tonight.”

“I’m not going to get drunk,” you protested.

“It’ll be so easy,” said Pansy, ignoring you completely. “Like, two shots.” Blaise and Theo were laughing, but you found that you were having rather enough of being the butt of the joke, so you drained your Butterbeer and stood up.

“I’ve got to get something at Honeydukes,” you said, not quite untruthfully, since you had wanted to pick up some Licorice Wands while you were in Hogsmeade today. “See you all in a while.” With a quick smile, you were sweeping out the door before anyone could comment.

You were still bristling a little as you marched to Honeydukes, hands stuffed in your pockets to avoid the biting cold. You weren’t so sure why the teasing bothered you so much today. It wasn’t new, really, and you knew that they didn’t actually mean any harm by it. Perhaps this whole interview with Rita Skeeter must have just had your brain in a little bit of an irritated funk.

“Y/N! Hey, wait up!”

You turned to see Draco rushing down the path after you, his scarf tied haphazardly around his neck due to throwing it on in a hurry. “I needed something from Honeydukes too,” he said once he caught you, and you set off down the path together. You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t say anything. Finally, after a few moments of silence, he spoke. “You know they were just kidding around, right?”

For some reason, it only irritated you more that he was trying to appease you. “They? Were you not laughing, too?”

He stopped you suddenly by grabbing your arm, forcing you to turn and look at him. He stood there in the freezing street, looking down at you with an expression that held a mixture of confusion and concern. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” you grumbled. “Not really. Sometimes I just wish I wasn’t made to feel like a stupid little child by my friends as well as my family.”

He sighed, and then fixed you with a very earnest look. “You know how Blaise and Pansy are with teasing, Y/N, but there’s nothing wrong with not drinking. Don’t let them talk you into it tonight if you don’t want to or just to prove something.”

“They aren’t just talking about drinking though, are they?” you asked him pointedly, feeling, irrationally, even angrier with his comforting. “Is that why you were laughing, too? Because you know that the only thing I’ve done with a boy is with you, and it’s all fake?” You only caught a glimpse of his shocked expression before you turned on your heel and began hurrying down the street again.

He, of course, caught up very quickly on his long legs and took your arm again. You stopped, exasperated, and looked up at him.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked carefully.

“What do you mean?” you snapped.

“This has happened loads of times. They throw you shit about being innocent, and you throw them shit back. You never felt bad about that. What’s different today?” His eyes were sweeping your face with that same concentrated, searching look he got when he was trying to solve a problem.

”I never said I didn’t feel bad about it,” you said flatly. “And today I also had to deal with Rita fucking Skeeter.”

His eyes flooded with comprehension. “I’m sorry. You should have said something,” he said earnestly. “I’ll talk to them, I’ll tell them that – ”

“No!” you insisted angrily. “Leave it be, Draco. _Merlin_.” You tried to wrench free and stomp off again, but he held your arm even tighter with a deep frown.

“I _like_ that you only do what you want or what you’re ready for, Y/N,” he told you.

You rolled your eyes. “That’s nice, Draco, but – ”

“I’m serious!” he said heatedly. “And if you want to drink tonight, then fine, but…but if you don’t, you can sit out with me. We can sit out together. I was planning on doing that anyway, so…” He smiled at you hopefully, and you sighed, relaxing a little. You still weren’t entirely sure where your temper was even coming from.

“Thanks,” you said, giving him a small smile.

His smile widened when he saw that you seemed to be feeling better. “Come on,” he said, tugging your scarf tighter again with a smile and then adjusting your winter hat over your ears before taking your gloved hand in his. “Let’s go to Honeydukes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: language, mentions of drugs (alcohol), Uncomfortable Situations ;)


	7. The Party

“Y/N, come here and zip me, will you?”

You crossed the room to where Pansy was standing with her back to you, the back of her dress open. After you did so she turned and grinned at you in the mirror, raising her arms a little in presentation. “Good?”

“As always,” you said to her, smiling. “Where’s Daphne?”

“Library,” she said, rolling her eyes but with a faint smile. “She’ll just meet us there. Probably better that way anyway, that we don’t travel in a big pack up there. Might look suspicious if the teachers see.” She began dabbing lip gloss on with her finger.

“I take it the boys are already up there, then?”

“I think so.” She turned and grinned mischievously at you. “You been working on your ‘jealous girlfriend’ act?”

You frowned at her in confusion. “Why should I have worked on that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Normally I would say that _surely_ you’re aware of the general mood in the castle from all the girls toward Draco at the moment, but seeing as it’s you, I’ll go ahead and assume that you’re not.” She smirked, but it wasn’t as if you could argue with her point. You _didn’t_ know what she was talking about, so you just fixed her with an indignant stare.

She just laughed. “Assumption correct, it seems.”

“Pansy! Explain yourself,” you pressed. You did not like the strange, squirming sensation that you felt in your stomach.

She turned to look at you with her eyes glittering and a teasing little grin. “After his little stunt carrying you up to the hospital? They’re all practically spreading their legs whenever he just walks by.” She laughed again, turning back to the mirror, and you flinched at her crudeness. The squirming in your stomach intensified. 

Surely Pansy was right. Her last advice to you about how to act had been, hadn’t it? And that interview with Rita Skeeter would have gone so much better if you had taken her seriously, but still…

There was a long silence, which you broke with a very tentative voice. “Er…Pansy? Has Draco…um…” You shuffled your feet, no longer looking at her. “Did he see many girls? Before?”

Pansy held your eyes in the mirror for a few moments before beginning to put the smallest hint of blush on her cheeks. “Let’s just say,” said Pansy finally, with a little smile, “That he’s probably giving up a lot of potential fun with other girls to do this whole thing for you, Y/N.”

This was, as it turned out, exactly the wrong thing to say, and you stood there, feeling like you had just been walloped in the stomach by the Whomping Willow and unable to identify all the emotions you were having. Pansy, however, seemed to note this, for she quickly turned around, with one cheek more pink than the other. “Oh, Y/N,” she said, regretfully. “I’ve hit a sore spot, haven’t I?”

“I don’t want him to resent me,” you muttered, looking away.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she pressed, stepping forward and taking your hand. When you looked up, she was giving you a reassuring smile, a soft one, which was quite rare on Pansy. “I meant that clearly he really cares about _you_ , that’s all. He knew what he was getting into when he did this whole fake boyfriend thing.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, desperately. “I mean, if what you said is true about all the girls now…” Your stomach did another nasty twist as the sudden image of Draco kissing another girl sprang into mind. Worst of all was knowing that if you weren’t currently holding him back, that’s probably precisely what he would be doing.

It was very confusing, feeling both guilty _and_ happy that you were stopping it.

“Don’t worry,” she said, squeezing your hand in response to your worried face and then returning to the mirror to do her other cheek. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. Really, Y/N, I was just teasing. Although,” she said, her eyes flicking to you in the mirror and holding your gaze for a moment, “Might not be a bad idea to step in if anybody gets too...hands-y.”

“Right,” you mumbled, not liking that idea one bit either.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, you and Pansy were cautiously making your way up to the Room of Requirement while keeping an eye out for professors lingering in the halls, before pacing three times and slipping inside.

It was transformed, as it usually was for these sorts of parties, into a gigantic room, evenly divided into two halves: one with plenty of sofas and chairs and tables and a dance floor on the other. You spotted a vast multitude of empty bottles on the tables already, and the students that were already there were mingling about, talking, laughing, dancing. There were even, you were displeased to note, students that were as young as fourth year. Pansy, despite being a Prefect, did not seem to mind this, but perhaps she was just distracted by seeing Daphne sitting with your group of friends over at a section of couches with a table in the middle.

You wondered, momentarily, what it must be like to hide the relationship you’re in. What it must be like for Pansy to not be able to go over and hug her or kiss her as she would like. And you felt a sudden rush of sadness for your two friends.

Still, Pansy was grinning, so you trailed behind her as she hurried over to flop beside Daphne. “You made it! Finally,” drawled Blaise.

You squeezed in beside Draco, who flung an automatic arm around your shoulders. Taking a quick glance around, you _did_ note that quite a few girls were looking your direction – how had you not seen it before? Some of them were just staring at Draco, but a few had their eyes trained on you, with anything from just neutral interest ranging all the way to envy or dislike.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“So?” said Blaise, eyeing you. “You in tonight, Y/N, or what?” He held up a shot glass that he had just poured with a wicked grin.

You glanced over at a group of girls, who were now whispering and staring at you, and then you clenched your jaw, holding out your hand for the shot glass without a word. There was an uproar of whoops and laughing from the others, though you didn’t hear anything coming from your side, and when you looked at Draco out of the corner of your eye he was just frowning slightly.

“What?”

He pulled his face into a neutral position. “Just be careful,” he drawled, leaning back against the couch to observe you.

You rolled your eyes, raised the glass to the others, and knocked it back.

It went down, but just barely. _It burned_. So badly. You put the shot glass on the table, coughing and sputtering and puckering up your face in distaste while Pansy and Blaise laughed with glee and took one themselves.

_How did people take so many?_ _Every weekend?_ you wondered, feeling how your throat was burning and the terrible taste in your mouth. _Why? What was even the point?_

Your eyes were watering and you began frantically scanning the table for water, but then there was suddenly a glass being held out in front of you. You looked over at Draco, who was grinning knowingly. “I told you,” he teased, nudging the glass into your hand, and you took it gratefully and eagerly drank the whole thing.

“Another, my lady?” teased Blaise, holding out a shot glass with a golden liquid this time. “I promise this one will go down easier than vodka.”

You held out your hand as affirmation and he grinned wider, showing his white, perfect teeth, and pushed the shot glass into your hand. Draco and Daphne sat out, but you, Pansy, Theo, and Blaise clinked glasses and took another one.

It _did_ go down easier than the vodka, but not by much.

Still, some nagging feeling in you made you keep reaching for more shot glasses, different ones each time, and Blaise’s smile was getting wider and wider, and by the sixth one, he was laughing with glee. “You don’t go halfway with things, do you?” he said affectionately.

“Just shut up and give me the thing, Blaise,” you said, rolling your eyes.

You took it, and Blaise went to pour yet another round, but Draco scooted closer and put an arm around you again. “Take a break,” he murmured. “You’ve had a lot in a short time for someone who doesn’t drink. And what did you eat for dinner?”

“Let her be, mother hen,” said Theo, laughing, and Draco shot him a glare.

“I think I forgot dinner,” you said, frowning.

Pansy let out something that was halfway between a shriek and a laugh. “Oh my god, this is going to be _amazing_ …”

Strange things were happening in your brain, so you weren’t paying her much attention. You felt extremely warm, and when you touched your cheeks you noted that they were indeed very hot. Your thoughts were beginning to feel fuzzy, and you felt…relaxed. But it wasn’t the same sort of relaxed that you felt when you were lying on the Common Room sofa, for example, when Draco was running his fingers through your hair…

Huh.

You shook your head a little, banishing that thought from your sluggish mind and as a result almost subconsciously looking around the room. Girls were still looking and whispering, and this time Draco’s eyes seemed to be on a group of them. You couldn’t see the expression on his face, but something made you reach for the next round of shots. When it was over, Draco’s eyes were on you again, and for some reason you thought he looked displeased.

“How are you feeling?” Daphne asked you, grinning. She had only taken one, with Draco, and you wondered if she, too, was sitting out the rest tonight.

“Warm,” you mumbled, putting your hand to your face again. “And my brain feels…slow.” And then you giggled very happily for no reason at all.

“It’s happening,” you heard Pansy say excitedly, and Blaise stood up, grinning.

“Dance floor, my lady? After one more, that is?”

“Blaise,” you heard Draco say, his tone a warning.

“Just dancing, then,” said Blaise, relenting easily, and he held out his hand with a grin. “Come on, this is a really good song.”

It had a bass heavy, sultry sounding beat, and it really was a good song. Laughing again for no real reason at all, you took Blaise’s hand and let him lead you to the section of the room that was large and open, where groups of students were already dancing. He took his hands in yours, and then he was playfully and dramatically shaking his hips and you were copying him, giggling, and he began spinning you and twirling you around as you laughed harder, gleeful, feeling delightfully dizzy and free and still so warm. 

And for once, you were not caring who was watching you or what they were thinking about how you moved or anything else. He was laughing too, and suddenly Pansy and Daphne’s grinning faces appeared over his shoulder to join you.

* * *

“Close your mouth, mate, you’re going to attract flies,” drawled Theo, and Draco jumped a little, dragging his eyes away from the dance floor to see that his friend was standing right beside him. Theo just gave him a wink, and Draco grimaced.

“Daphne told you?”

“No,” said Theo, grinning. “I’m intelligent. Also, it’s painfully obvious.”

“Great,” Draco muttered.

“What’s got you in such a mood?” asked Theo. His eyes followed Draco’s, which were yet again fixed on you dancing with Blaise, Daphne, and Pansy. “She’s enjoying herself, mate. Aren’t you happy about that? Don’t tell me this is about the drinking. That would be hypocritical.”

“No,” said Draco, with a slight frown. “Not exactly. It just seems like she’s doing it because something is bothering her. She was acting strangely all day today.”

“Well yeah,” said Theo, shrugging. “She’s realizing what a spotlight she’s in, isn’t she? And girls have it a lot harder in the spotlight then we do. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Draco, but you’re popular with the ladies lately. That might make her feel, you know…especially scrutinized.”

Draco glanced at him, frowning deeper now. “Are people harassing her?”

“Not that I know of,” replied Theo. “Might be a better question for Daphne and Pansy though. Or, you know, _her_. And you should tell her how you feel. Tonight. Right now.” He nudged Draco a little in the direction of the dance floor, but Draco planted his heels so that he couldn’t move further.

“No,” said Draco firmly, shaking his head.

“You don’t think she’ll reject you?” asked Theo incredulously.

“I don’t know,” said Draco honestly. “I can’t tell. Sometimes it feels like she’s actually enjoying being close to me and other times it feels like it’s torture for her. But that’s not the only problem.” Theo just arched an eyebrow, waiting. “It’s this whole situation,” continued Draco irritably. “Like I said, she isn’t always the best actress, so if I tell her and it makes it awkward, then…well…”

“She’s at risk to be married off,” said Theo slowly, nodding. “Yes, I see.”

“And I just _know_ Skeeter is going to want a follow-up interview,” muttered Draco, pursing his lips. “Y/N does not do well around that woman, believe me.” His mouth twitched. “There was murder written on her face the majority of the time, really.”

“Do any of us do well around her?” chortled Theo. “Remember when she published that article about how my father was buying himself wives from overseas and hiding them in our dungeons?” He shook his head. “Granted, my father is an arsehole, but not _that_ much of an arsehole. We had the Ministry intruding and searching for that one though, all because of her bloody writing.”

“Or what about that time she speculated that my father and mother were first cousins, and my incestuous brain was the reason that my Italian at some stupid ball was so patchy?” Draco asked dryly.

“Oh right, I had forgotten about that one,” said Theo, grinning. “We called you “Simple Draco” for _weeks_ – why we ever stopped with that nickname is a true mystery. Maybe I should bring it back – ”

“Don’t you dare,” said Draco, shooting Theo a look of warning.

“I vote you bring it back, Theodore,” drawled Blaise, who had just appeared by their side and was reaching out to take the bottle of firewhiskey from Theo’s hands before taking a long swig.

“Done dancing, Blaise?” asked Theo.

“Just getting hydrated,” said Blaise with a grin, holding the bottle up and then passing it back to Theo. “Remember that article Skeeter wrote about Pansy and Daphne supposedly fighting over me? That Quick Quotes Quill of hers would promptly explode if she found out those two are together now.”

Theo, who had been taking a drink, promptly choked on it as he started to laugh, and then he began to cough. Draco had to thump his back a few times. Blaise gave them a mischievous grin and sauntered back onto the dance floor.

“Can’t wait to see what angle old Rita’s going to cook up for the two of you,” said Theo, gesturing between you and Draco with a wide smile. “I can see the headline now: “ _Does the Malfoy heir’_ _s staring and_ _drool_ _ing_ _whenever he looks at_ _Ms. Y/L/N_ _deliver more proof for_ _th_ _e_ _Simple Draco_ _theory_ _, or is it_ _actually just_ _true_ _love?”_ – hey, ouch!”

Draco, who had elbowed Theo in the ribs, shot him a look. “Shut up,” he muttered, but Theo just rubbed at the offending spot, looking rather pleased with himself.

* * *

After a few songs your cheeks were flaming, and you couldn’t stop laughing and – and you were _intoxicated_ , you realized. The thought only made you smile hazily and laugh even harder at Blaise’s ridiculous dance moves.

“Bathroom. Come with me,” Pansy said into your ear, taking your arm and pulling you away with her, leaving Daphne to spin with Blaise.

You followed her happily, still with a bit of a stupid grin on your face, and you slipped into one of the stalls while you were there – you were here already, so why not – and you were still grinning a little to yourself, swaying as you tried to situate yourself properly. But the grin disappeared quickly when you heard two girls enter the bathroom, talking.

“…the way she was flirting with Zabini right in front of him?” one of them was saying.

“Disgusting,” the other one agreed. “What does he see in her, do you think?”

Your brain was slow, but you still registered who they must be talking about, and your heart began to pound even harder (curiously, you found that it was already going much faster after all those shots). When you were finished and you knew they had slipped in the stalls, you slipped out to wash your hands and went quickly outside to wait for Pansy, seething.

She came out with a grimace on her face.

“We can wait and hex them,” she suggested, in a bit of a slur.

“No.” You noted that your hands are shaking.

“You’re just going to let them get away with saying that shit?” Pansy prodded.

“No.”

“I don’t – ”

But she was cut off by you perking up at the sight of the two girls exiting the bathroom. Without a second’s hesitation, you swept over behind them and grabbed them fiercely by the hair, yanking them backward. They screeched in pain, clawing wildly at your hands. You heard shouts of surprise from around you, and gasps and yells, and people rushing over.

And, distinctly, you heard Pansy laughing.

The girls stumbled, but then they whirled and pulled out wands.

You were too sluggish to register their actions quick enough to pull yours, but that didn’t matter, because suddenly Draco was standing in front of you, one arm outstretched with his wand drawn and pointed at the two and the other tucking you easily behind him. Pansy was there, too, standing beside Draco and blocking you with her wand out and her teeth bared. You noted Daphne, Theo, and Blaise sweeping your direction as well.

“I can’t let you curse my girlfriend,” said Draco, almost casually.

“Did you not see that bitch come up and attack us?!” one of them yelled furiously. “Get your little pet under control, Malfoy!”

There were titters from the watching crowd, and you let out a shriek of indignation and started to try and sprint forward, but Theo was there by now, and he and Daphne grabbed your arms and held you back, though you continued to struggle furiously, glaring at the two girls. But after a few tense moments, they only threw a contemptuous look at your group of friends, knowing they were outnumbered, pocketed their wands, and stalked away.

“Oh my god, is she a combative drunk? This is better than I ever could have imagined,” you heard Blaise say, and you could tell by his voice that he was grinning. Pansy giggled.

Daphne and Theo seemed to find it safe to release you as soon as Draco had turned. He was arching an eyebrow at you, radiating even more displeasure than when you had taken so many shots, and you gave him a defiant look.

“What?” you prompted, slurring the word.

He just sighed. “Come on. Let’s dance, and try not to start another fight, okay?” He held out his hand for you to take and you accepted it with a bit of a grumble at his attitude, letting him pull you back over to the dance floor followed by your group of friends, who were chattering gleefully.

The song was upbeat, and soon enough you had forgotten the altercation and were back in a zone of carefree bliss, dancing and laughing with your friends. At one point, you felt Draco come up to you from behind and wrap his arms around your waist. You giggled and shrieked and clung to his forearms, and you heard his throaty chuckles in your ear. 

When you saw that there was a group of girls watching you disdainfully, however, you abruptly stopped laughing. And then you struggled your way out of his grasp, turned around, grabbed his shirt, and yanked him down so that you could kiss him.

It was easily the most passionate kiss you had given him, and something about the pulsing beat and the dim light and the swirling of your brain due to all the shots was making it all so much _better_ than usual. Your senses were both dulled and somehow heightened, and it must have gone on for some time because you started to hear whistles. You found you didn’t care. It wasn’t until someone yelled over the music, “Get a room!” that you broke apart from Draco and spun furiously toward the general direction of the shout.

“Suck a dick!” you shouted back, and you heard gasps and giggles not only from your group of friends, but from your general vicinity.

Draco’s eyes were bulging in shock when you turned back. You swept your hair out of your face with an irritated little huff, and Pansy was bent over laughing. “Yes,” she choked, in Blaise’s general direction, “She is clearly a combative drunk.”

“Oh, Merlin, this is fucking hilarious,” Blaise said gleefully.

“A complete personality switch,” Daphne agreed, wiping her eyes.

“And,” said Draco, rather dryly, “I think time to go back to the Common Room.”

“I don’t want to,” you whined, looking up to give him your best pout and nearly falling over. Your head was even foggier now. Perhaps all the dancing had made you drunker. Was that possible? It must be. Also, you were very hungry.

“Too bad.” His voice was harder than you had expected it to be, and he took your arm and began steering you away before you had the chance to complain or protest. The others were still grinning at you as you waved a gloomy hand at them. They responded with cheerful waves of their own.

It wasn’t until you were outside in the corridor with Draco that you rounded on him. “WHY DO WE – ”

“Shh!” he hissed, clapping a hand over your mouth and his eyes darting frantically up and down the corridor. “It’s past curfew, Y/N. Merlin, you can’t just go shouting out here, we have to make it back quietly, and quickly…”

When you nodded, showing him that you were indeed trustworthy to talk at a normal volume (you hadn’t meant to speak so loudly, really – must be another side effect of the alcohol, plus that blaring music) he released his hand from your mouth and you whispered, shocked, “It’s past curfew?”

How had time gone so quickly? Had you really danced that long?

“Yes,” he said, rather curtly. He took your upper arm again and began guiding you along the corridor, eyes darting carefully around as you went.

You didn’t dare speak as you stumbled along beside him, partially because he seemed angry and partially because, while you were indeed quite drunk, you could at least appreciate the seriousness of the situation. That was why, when you finally made it to the familiar Slytherin Common Room, you let out a little sigh of relief.

There were, unfortunately, some people milling about, and they eyed you and Draco curiously as he marched you quickly through the room and toward the staircase that led to his dorm room. “Wh-what are you doing?” you asked him. It was quite difficult to speak and navigate your feet on the steps at the same time, and most of your weight was on him by this point.

“If you sleep on an empty stomach, you’re going to regret it tomorrow,” he said firmly. “And I have food up here. Careful, watch your step!” Your toe had hit a stair, and you almost fell forward, but he caught you easily and then just sighed. He seemed to decide carrying you the rest of the way was easier, because he suddenly lifted you up and continued up the staircase.

You let out a little shriek of laughter, and then began to giggle, long and loud, against his chest.

“Merlin,” you heard him mutter. “What’s so funny?”

You poked at his chest a little. “You’re stroooong.” At that, his mouth turned slightly upward at the corners, which made you laugh even harder. “Vain, vain Draco,” you sang out in a slur, laying your head against his chest and peeking up at him. “Can’t stay mad when he’s complimented.”

“I’m not mad,” he said, struggling to open the door with one hand and then kicking it open, walking in, and nudging it closed again before depositing you on the bed.

“Th-that’s _bullshit_ ,” you complained, scrambling to sit up and pointing an accusing finger at him.

He just swept over to a table across the room to get some water and biscuits, and then came to stand in front of you, holding them out. “Here.”

You wrinkled your nose. “My stomach feels full. It’s all…sloshy.”

“I don’t care. Drink the water and eat the biscuits.”

Frowning, you took the glass and took a tiny little sip. You had some difficulty getting the next words out due to your sluggish brain, but you finally managed. “You’re mad because…I drank?”

“No,” he said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before his eyes were sweeping over you in that same searching way that he had in Hogsmeade earlier that day.

“What?” you pressed.

“Is something bothering you?” he finally asked slowly.

“No,” you mumbled.

With another deep sigh, he sat beside you on the bed and turned to face you, watching you very carefully. “You blink a lot when you lie,” he reminded you softly. “Even drunk.”

“And _you_ ,” you snapped, jabbing him in the chest with your finger, “Are…” What he was, exactly, you didn’t know, because the words died in your throat and you just fixed him with a steely look that probably wasn’t very intimidating, because his mouth twitched a little in amusement again.

“Are you going to tell me, or will I have to press?” he asked finally.

You thought for a moment. “Press,” you slurred, taking another sip of water and nibbling gently on a biscuit, even though you had no appetite whatsoever.

“Fine then. Will you _please_ tell me what’s going on with you, Y/N?”

There was this other side effect of alcohol, you would note later. It was word vomit. Sometimes things spilled out because consequences were not something a drunk person considered.

“Everyone thinks you’re too good for me,” you blurted out.

There was a long silence where he just stared at you, his face neutral. “That’s not true,” he said finally, gently.

“Yes, it is,” you said fiercely, glaring up at him angrily. “You know it!”

“No, I don’t,” he said simply. An agitated crease had appeared on his forehead.

“Pansy told me that – that all the girls – the Hospital Wing – ” You couldn’t properly articulate a full sentence or a coherent thought. Possibly because your thoughts weren’t coherent.

“Are people being mean to you?” he pressed, frowning.

“Not _to_ me,” you slurred in a low voice. “B-but I heard those two girls – ” And then you looked up at him very indignantly, eyes blazing. “I w-wasn’t flirting with Blaise!”

His face showed his puzzlement at your change of track in the conversation. He was wearing that same look he had gotten that night at the dinner party, the one where his brain was whirring. But then the corners of his mouth turned up again. “I know that.”

“Well, not everyone does,” you snapped, taking an aggressive bite of your biscuit.

“Ah. Does this solve the mystery of your attack on those girls, then?” His eyes were shining with mirth. You just shrugged, taking another obedient sip of water with a deep frown, and he continued. “To any casual observer, I think anyone just _talking_ to Blaise would probably be assumed to be flirting. The man _is_ insanely beautiful,” he said, his mouth quirking up in a crooked grin.

You giggled and swayed a little sitting there on the bed. “That’s true, I suppose.”

“And so naturally, if people at a party see _two_ beautiful people dancing, and the girl is being unfairly scrutinized anyway, they’re going to talk.” A very warm feeling was spreading through your chest and you just gaped at him, but he didn’t seem to realize he had said anything interesting to you, for he continued in a reassuring voice, “But don’t worry, Y/N. It’s very unlikely something like that silly gossip would get back to your parents.” And then he chuckled. “But attacking those girls was probably not the best way to express your disagreement.”

You just sat there, stunned. There was too much for your hazy brain to unpack quickly. First, the implication that he considered you anywhere near Blaise’s level of physical desirability. And secondly, you hadn’t even _remembered_ your parents. You had been furious at those girls because they had made you feel insecure, for one thing, but the comment about Blaise had riled you up so much mostly because it had insinuated that you weren’t loyal to Draco.

_That I wouldn’t be_ , _if it were real_ , you reminded yourself suddenly. _Line_.

“What is it?” Draco asked, examining your face with his brow furrowed.

“You think I’m beautiful?” you blurted out, swaying again and nearly spilling the water all over your lap. 

He reached forward to hold your wrist and keep it steady, and when he leaned back again he had pulled his face into a smooth, unreadable mask. “I thought you knew that,” he said slowly. “I’ve said it before, haven’t I?”

“Sure, with Skeeter,” you slurred, waving a hand dismissively. “But I didn’t think what we said there really meant anything.” Your eyes were back down on your biscuit and did not see the spasm of hurt that crossed his features before he could arrange them back to the blank look he had before.

“Well, I meant that,” he said simply, with a strain so light you didn’t hear it. “Now would you finish that biscuit?”

You stuck your tongue at him. “I _told_ you, I’m full…”

“And I told _you_ that you would be thanking me tomorrow, Y/N, so eat the damn biscuit or I will pry it from your hands and make you.” He arched a teasing eyebrow at you.

“ _Abuse_!” you screeched suddenly, throwing the biscuit on the bed with a devilish look, springing to your feet very clumsily, and trying to stagger off with the glass of water, giggling.

“What do you think that will do for you?” Draco called after you, laughing.

“Y-you can’t…get me over here,” you taunted, grinning.

He sat very still for so long that your eyes widened, watching him uncertainly; and then, without warning, he sprang to his feet with a mischievous look on his face. You let out an exhilarated scream and tried to stumble sideways to put some more distance between you and him, but he ran over in four easy strides and reached his arms out to pick you up, laughing.

Not knowing what else to do, you flung the glass of water right into his face.

He sputtered, staring at you indignantly, and you gazed up at him with wide eyes for a moment before you burst into laughter, so hard that you could hardly breathe, and pointing up at him. “Y-your _face_ ,” you wheezed, and he let out a little growl and rushed forward. 

You shrieked again, trying to fight him off with your arms, but it was helpless. He easily hoisted you over his shoulder, with you struggling and beating your fists on his back, and then to your surprise he made his way to the bathroom. “Draco, what are you _doing_?” you cried, squirming in his grasp.

He just ripped open the shower curtain, and took the shower head in his hand. You realized now what he was planning on doing, and you began to scream and shriek in protest, struggling even harder, but his grip on you was tight. 

“What, you can dish it out but can’t take it?” he jabbed, laughing, and then he tossed you in the shower on your feet.

You stumbled, and tried to scramble out of the tub before he could do anything, but you were extremely slow right now and it was too late. He had already turned the water on and was spraying you with a powerful jet of it.

In between your sputtering protests, you got tiny little glimpses of his laughing face as you struggled to get out of the stream. Your movements were not effective in the slightest, but the water _finally_ stopped and you stood there, drenched and dumbstruck. When you saw the smug look on his face, you glared at him. “I’m going to k- _kill_ you, Draco!” you slurred out indignantly.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to eat the biscuits I offer you and not throw water in my face,” he teased, holding out a hand to help you out of the tub and waving the shower head menacingly at you again.

“I’m all wet!” you gasped out, starting to shiver a little.

“Should have thought of that before you splashed me with your water,” he drawled, grinning. “So come on out, wait here, and let me bring you a towel and dry clothes. And if you try anything with that shower head on me, I promise you that whatever I do to you afterward would make you regret it.” His grin suddenly got wider. “And I _will_ beat you. After all, I’m _stroooong_ , remember?”

You flushed, but he was already turning away and had returned within a few minutes and placed everything on the counter for you. He gave you a shit-eating grin which made you stick out your tongue at him again before he exited the bathroom to let you change.

There was a distinct amount of difficulty drying yourself off and changing when you were so uncoordinated and tipsy, but you eventually managed, and you noted hazily that his pajamas smelled like sandalwood and were very comfortable.

When you came out of the bathroom he was sitting on the edge of the bed next to the plate, eyebrow quirked and giving you a no nonsense sort of look. You just let out a little grumble and traipsed over to flop beside him, holding out your hand with a glare. “Aww, what’s wrong?” he prodded, as he put the biscuit on your palm and you began to eat it. “Someone bite off more than they could chew?”

“I will murder you in your sleep,” you told him gruffly, and he chuckled.

“You really are a combative drunk, aren’t you?” He sighed dramatically.

You finished your third biscuit and started on the fourth. “Can I stay here?”

He let a slow smile spread over his face. “So you can murder me in my sleep?”

“No,” you answered, rolling your eyes.

“Sure,” he said finally, giving you a smile. “I’m going to take a shower and get ready for bed, but you finish that plate, drink more water, and then sleep, okay? I promise that you will thank me tomorrow for all of this.” He grinned again before he tugged on a lock of your wet hair, leaned over, casually pecked your lips in goodbye, and then stood to go to the bathroom.

You sat there with your blood suddenly running hot in your veins and in a state of partial shock. Because yet again, you didn’t think he had realized what he had done. But then he suddenly stopped in his tracks on the way to the bathroom. Very slowly, he turned on his heel to face you. His features held a mixture of confusion and horror. “I just kissed you.”

“Yes. I noticed,” you said, giving him a nervous smile.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, still looking vaguely horrified. “I wasn’t – just a habit – ”

“I know,” you mumbled, shrugging. “It’s okay. It’s not the first time you’ve done it.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“It’s…well you’ve done that before,” you slurred, nibbling on the biscuit. When he just continued staring at you, you swallowed the bite of your biscuit, smiled nervously again, and clarified, “Kissed me when we were alone, I mean. To say hello. You didn’t even realize.”

“How often?” His voice sounded a little strained.

“Just one other time. I think,” you answered, shrugging again. The look on his face made you feel that you had to hasten to reassure him. “It’s _fine_ ,” you said, laughing a little. “I know this whole thing is…confusing.”

“What do you mean?” he asked carefully, coming back to sit on the bed again.

“Well just…” The alcohol still was making sure that you rambled on, and you shifted a little, your eyes on the plate of biscuits. “I don’t know. You’re my friend. That I kiss sometimes. Kiss a lot, actually. Like a friend with benefits only…the benefits are for other people.” You were frowning in thought when you looked up at him.

“Kissing me is that bad?” he asked, giving you a very dramatic sigh and a significant look. “I’m offended.”

“Vain, vain Draco,” you sang again, nudging him. “Always fishing for compliments. If you want me to tell you it’s not that bad to kiss you, just say so.”

He grinned. “Fine. Tell me it’s not that bad to kiss me, Y/N.”

You laughed and nudged your shoulder with his again. “It’s not that bad, Draco,” you teased in a slur, and his eyes glittered at you. “But…” You bit your lip, unsure how to properly explain what you were thinking. “But I just meant…always having to check and see who is around to know how to act. Everyone always watching. It’s exhausting, and I hate it. Don’t you?” you asked a little desperately.

“I wouldn’t say I hate it,” he said slowly. His eyes were scanning your face very intently. “Though it is true that it can be quite exhausting.”

“You’re better than me at the acting,” you mumbled, sighing.

He looked very amused. “Yes. But you’re getting better.”

You stared at him. “I am?”

“When you have shots, at least. Or when you feel you have something to prove.” He suddenly was giving you a wicked grin. “Or are you too tipsy to remember how you kissed me on the dance floor?”

You smacked him, feeling your face get hot. “ _Stop_!”

“Did I say I was complaining?” Something in his voice and his eyes made your breath catch, but then it was over as quickly as it had appeared, and he was patting your knee with a small smile. “It’s all fine, right? You’re fine? Scene over?”

You nodded. “Scene over,” you agreed.

He stood up. “I’ll be out in a while. Finish that water, okay? And then sleep.”

“Okay,” you replied, watching him walk away with your mind swirling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: language, shameless Drama, a girl fight, ridiculous levels of fluff, alcohol and intoxication, possible danger of also falling in love with Theo? no? just me??


	8. The Article

You woke the next morning with a headache and a mouth like cotton, and you couldn’t help the little groan of discomfort that escaped your mouth as you rolled over and stuffed your face in the pillow.

“Be happy I made you eat last night,” said a slightly amused voice, and when you looked up and blearily opened your eyes you saw a glass of water in your line of vision. Blinking a few times to adjust to the light, you glanced up to see Draco, who was already fully dressed and standing there with an eyebrow arched at you. “Otherwise you would feel a lot worse right now.”

“Helpful right now, thank you,” you said hoarsely and very sarcastically, wincing as you sat up and obediently took the water from him to start taking tentative sips. Your stomach was rolling.

His mouth twitched. “I won’t say I told you so…”

“Except you already kind of are,” you said grumpily. “I get it, Draco.”

He reached out and affectionately tugged on a lock of your hair. “Someone in a bad mood?”

You swatted at him with a pout and missed entirely. “Someone in a smug mood?”

He just laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Sleep well?”

“Like I was dead.” You sighed and drank more water. “You?”

“Fine. Well, except I discovered that you’re a complete bed hog. And a blanket hog, too.” His eyes were glinting at you.

“I am not,” you answered, very indignantly.

He tugged on your hair again. “Oh, yes you are. You also really like to cuddle.”

“I what?” you gasped, eyes widening.

“You kept putting your head on my chest and mumbling in your sleep about how warm I was,” he said, grinning. When you looked at him in a rather horrified manner, he continued teasingly, “But clearly that was the only way I was going to get any blankets at all the entire night, so I just dealt with it as best I could…”

You smacked at him, and this time you caught his shoulder. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he said, and he looked rather smug. “But come on, go shower and let’s go down to breakfast. I promise if you drink that water and eat breakfast the headache will be gone in the next two hours and you’ll feel better.”

“How did you know I have a headache?” you mumbled, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and allowing him to pull you to your feet.

“Because I have had a hangover in my life, believe it or not.” He grinned. “And also because you’re squinting at me like I’m the sun.” He nudged you in the direction of the bathroom. “Now go on, the shower will help too. I’ll go see if Daphne and Pansy are awake and if they’ll bring you some of your clothes here. Unless you’d like to wear mine all day?”

Truthfully, that didn’t sound like a bad option. Draco’s clothes smelled good, and there was something about wearing them that made you feel special.

But you just rolled your eyes and tottered off to his bathroom, shutting the door behind you so that you could enjoy a hot shower. The steam did you well, and you were indeed already feeling better when you came out, dried off, and tentatively peeked out of a crack in door with a towel wrapped tightly around you. Draco, who must have seen the door open the tiniest bit, went to the other side of the door, but he was behind the wood and you could only see a pale arm. “Here,” you heard him say, holding out some of your clothes for you, and you snatched them with a “Thank you,” and closed the door again to get dressed.

What you didn’t realize until you both went down to the Common Room was what people would assume when seeing you leave his room together in the morning. Already, you saw students staring, stifling giggles behind their hands, and whispering to each other.

_Well, that’s going to get around the school by lunch_ , you thought ruefully, glaring at them.

Daphne was already there, so you assumed she had brought you the clothes – perhaps Pansy was sleeping in, as she was wont to do on Sundays – but that theory was quickly destroyed when Pansy came rushing down the stairs in her pajamas, a magazine clutched in her hand and a very strained look on her face that made you frown. “Meeting,” she hissed to you, Daphne, and Draco before anyone could say anything else. “Somewhere private. Draco’s room. Now.”

Feeling a sudden sense of dread, you followed Pansy and the others yet again up the stairs to Draco’s room, where she closed the door, spun on her heel, and threw the magazine she had been carrying on Draco’s bed.

“You both don’t get Witch Weekly, I assume?” Pansy asked, glancing between you with a rather apprehensive look in her eyes that made you very nervous. If _Pansy_ was apprehensive, then perhaps this was going to be bad, and you had a feeling you knew what it was about. You and Draco both shook your heads, giving each other concerned glances before you simultaneously leaned forward to look at the magazine. Daphne watched, biting her lip in agitation.

The cover was a picture of you and Draco – a picture from one of your frames back home in your room, where you had countless pictures of you and your friends. This meant your mother had sent it in, and you grit your teeth in fury, but the picture, unfortunately, was the least of your problems. The headlines read:

**_The lives of the Scandalous Elite!_ **

_Is all really well in paradise with Draco Malfoy and Y/N Y/L/N? Or do they have secrets? Rita Skeeter tells all in this thrilling issue!_

“Oh shit,” you whispered, looking up at Pansy fearfully. “Does she know? Was I not good enough at our interview? Was it my acting? Oh _shit_ – ”

“No,” said Pansy. “It isn’t about you, Y/N. It’s about Draco.”

You shot him a very confused and alarmed gaze, which he returned, before looking back at Pansy. “But that’s impossible. He’s so much better at this than I am, you should have seen him! He was _much_ more convincing than I was.”

You were so busy staring at Pansy in horror that you didn’t see the subtle look of sympathy Daphne shot Draco over your shoulder, nor did you see the grimace he returned at her.

“She doesn’t think you’re fake dating,” said Pansy, reaching out a hand to open the magazine.

“But – ” You began, but then the page fell open, and all you could do was stare. “She’s saying Draco’s cheated on you,” she finished grimly.

The gigantic, moving picture that was dominating one of the pages that covered the story was indeed Draco with another girl. You thought you recognized the location as Malfoy Manor, out near the rose gardens, and it was unmistakably Draco and definitely not you, either. You watched with a pang in your chest as picture Draco placed a hand on the small of her back, and then leaned down to kiss her. And the worst part was how very passionate the kiss seemed to be – the loop of the moving picture cut off when she pressed herself as close as possible to him and gripped his hair, and then it moved right back to the beginning where he put his hand on her back. You were quite certain he had never kissed you like that. You watched the picture iterate three times, feeling a mixture of both fury and fear.

Finally, you looked up at him. He had still been staring down at the magazine with eyes slightly unfocused, but then he looked up at you. You didn’t know what the look on his face was. You couldn’t quite identify it.

“When was this?” Even you could tell how angry you sounded. Draco blinked, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Daphne and Pansy share a glance.

“Beginning of summer,” he said, sounding rather hoarse. “Long before this whole situation started. I would never jeopardize it, Y/N, not with your future on the line. You _know_ that.“

“Well then it’s fine,” you said, though your voice was still cold and it really wasn’t fine at all. Your stomach felt like it was full of snakes. “What’s Rita trying to get at, then? If it was before, then…” And then your eyes widened in understanding as Pansy gave you both significant looks.

“And what did you tell your parents _and_ Rita about when you two started dating?”

You met Draco’s eyes, which were also dawning in comprehension.

“Fuck,” he muttered, and something in you snapped.

“How could you be so reckless?” you hissed at him, your face screwing up in fury.

He gaped at you, and then his features, too, twisted in anger. “ _Reckless_? What, am I supposed to have known even then that I had to jump in and get you out of an underage marriage, Y/N? I’m not a fucking _Seer_ , and I was perfectly entitled to kiss a girl over the summer in my own home.” He raked a hand through his hair. “How the fuck did they even get this?”

“Stick your tongue down her throat, you mean,” you snapped, gesturing brusquely to the magazine, and Daphne and Pansy exchanged looks of alarm. “You’re the one that told them that we started dating end of last year!”

“I was under pressure, and I just said _something_ ,” he growled. “Which was more than you did, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask you to do this, Draco!” you yelled furiously.

“And where would you be if I hadn’t?” he shouted back. His cheeks were becoming pink with anger and you could also feel your face heating in response, how your fists were clenching. “Or do you _want_ to be miserably betrothed to a complete stranger, Y/N? Do you think I really had a choice?”

You flinched, but then glared furiously at him. “Then STOP!” you screamed, feeling tears well up in your eyes now. “Leave it be, if it’s so terrible for you to do, and then you can continue on with whatever the hell _that_ is.“ You gestured vehemently toward the magazine.

“Stop!” shrieked Daphne suddenly. “Stop it, you two!”

“Yes, shut the fuck up,” said Pansy very forcefully. “You’re on the same team, so stop being ridiculous. Draco, Y/N is under a lot of stress with her parents and this situation has made it difficult if her father was already suspicious, so be understanding. Y/N, Draco was under pressure at the dinner party, and though he made a little mistake he couldn’t have known his privacy was breached like this _and_ he did have to think quickly on his feet to ultimately get you out of something terrible, so be grateful. Would you both _please_ just cut the shit so we can figure out how you two are going to play this in public?”

You and Draco both shot each other contemptuous looks, eyes still narrowed at each other, but you stopped shouting and only looked sullenly at Pansy.

“I say we go about it like it didn’t happen,” muttered Draco finally.

“Well that suits _you_ perfectly,” you couldn’t help but retort.

He stiffened and turned to glare at you. “What does that mean?”

“That will just make me look like the desperate idiot who has no self-respect, and you look like the man who can get away with toying with me,” you shot back, pinching the bridge of your nose. “The press is going to murder me even though you’re the one that cheated.”

“The press is going to murder you more than him no matter what,” said Daphne gently, patting you sympathetically on the shoulder.

“Yes, Draco’s possession of a dong automatically exempts him from the shit you’re going to get, Y/N,” agreed Pansy, and you huffed.

“And besides, who _cares_ what everyone thinks about it?” Draco asked angrily. You folded your arms at him and set your jaw, but he didn’t back down. “ _You_ know it’s all not true, and besides, it’s all just a game, right? So just ignore them and play the game, because you know what happens when you don’t. You’ll just have to swallow your pride, Y/N.”

“Oh, fuck you, Draco,” you hissed. “This is your fault, so don’t lecture _me_ – ”

“ _My_ fault? I’ve been carrying this thing the entire time! You can hardly act like you’re into me!” He threw his arms up in exasperation, his eyes blazing. “You’re being selfish,” he finished furiously, and then, without another word, he turned on his heel and made his way to the door.

“Draco, we still need to figure out – ” Pansy began, but he whirled around.

“You all figure it out! Don’t need me, do you? I’ll just play my role as needed until I’m blamed for something else.” And then he turned, wrenched the door open, and stormed out as you all watched with your mouths hanging open.

A terrible sensation was creeping into your chest, something blocking your airways, and you felt your eyes begin to burn with tears all over again. But then you turned and sat on the bed, and saw the moving picture out of the corner of your eye all over again, and with a little shriek of indignation, you flipped the magazine closed and resisted the urge to tear it to shreds.

“I knew he resented me for this,” you said quietly, after a very long moment of shocked silence. You were immediately regretting most of what you had said to him. He _had_ been carrying this whole thing, and without his help…

You shuddered at the thought.

“No, he doesn’t,” said Daphne soothingly. “He was just angry, and I think he just felt underappreciated and attacked.”

“I should go find him,” you said, standing again determinedly.

“No. Give him a little while,” suggested Pansy firmly. “You know how dramatic Draco can be.”

Going to breakfast after that was a special kind of torture. Not only were there the rumors floating around from the magazine that Rita Skeeter had published, but there was also the lovely information flying about that you had spent the night in Draco’s room. When you heard the whispered phrase “ _spreading her legs to try and keep him_ _interested_ ” from a group of girls on the way to the Great Hall you stopped in your tracks, stiffening, but Daphne and Pansy each grabbed one of your arms and continued walking you toward the Hall and the Slytherin table.

“Ignore it,” soothed Daphne. “No more hair pulling.”

“Hold your head high,” said Pansy. “It’s just a rumor, remember? The image was from spring break. Rita is lying. You _know_ Draco would never be unfaithful to you. You have complete and utter trust in him. Okay? That’s how you’re playing this, so you can’t look bothered by any of this, Y/N. And besides, even if you _did_ – ”

“What? Of course not,” you exclaimed, looking at her with wide eyes.

“That’s not the point,” she said impatiently. “The point is that even if you had, there would be nothing wrong with it. No one is going to slut shame _him_ about it, are they?” Pansy’s face darkened for a moment. “No doubt all the men will be trying to give him high fives.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, irritated, but you did put your chin a little higher as Pansy instructed and you did your best to ignore the stares when you made your way to the table.

“Well,” said Theo, grinning at the three of you when you settled in. “Dramatic start to the week, eh? Where’s lover boy? With another one of his side women?” He chortled at his own joke.

“Not the time, Theo,” said Daphne quickly, as you narrowed your eyes at him, and he immediately quieted down and began dishing himself some scrambled eggs, looking rather sheepish.

* * *

You spent most of the day in your dormitory doing your mountain of homework, unwilling to hear the whispers and gossip that followed you wherever you went. Really, you wanted to go and find Draco, but you were afraid of a confrontation somewhere in the castle with the strain of the public image as it was right now, and so you waited until night had fallen and you were feeling brave enough to go up the stairway to his private dormitory to see if he was there.

Eyes followed you as you crossed the Common Room to the set of stairs that led to his dorm, and you did your best to ignore them. Pansy and Daphne, who were sitting near the fire with Blaise and Theo, shot you sympathetic looks, and you just smiled grimly at them before heading up the staircase, taking a deep breath, and knocking on Draco’s door. Your heart shot into your throat when you heard footsteps, and then the door opened and there he was, already in his pajamas and looking at you very neutrally – in fact, you could tell he was doing his best to mask any emotion at the moment – but he seemed calm and not unhappy to see you, so you supposed that was a good sign.

“Could we talk?” you asked, rather nervously.

“Of course.” He stepped back to allow you in the room and closed the door behind you, and you took yet another deep breath as you turned to face him and he leaned against the door, crossing his arms. But he spoke again before you could. “I would have come up to your dorm,” he explained, giving you a small smile. “But seeing as the boys can’t…”

“Oh,” you said, feeling something warm expand in your chest. “Thank you, that’s…I’m sorry that I didn’t come earlier. I didn’t really want to…go out and about much today.”

“Understandable,” he said softly.

For some reason, knowing he had heard all the gossip made you feel more embarrassed. You had held on to the slim hope that he had gone off to deserted parts of the castle to be alone and hadn’t heard a thing; but of course he had heard what people were saying about you. Who hadn’t?

“Draco, I…” you fumbled with your hands and stared at his chest rather than his face. “I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate this. I know this whole situation is…crazy. Utterly insane, actually. But I’m grateful for you doing this for me, more than I could ever say, and – ” To your horror, you felt your eyes filling with tears again. “Well, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least try and say it more often,” you finished in a mumble, finally peeking up at him.

His eyes were warm, and you relaxed. He took a few steps toward you. “I’m sorry I said the wrong time,” he said earnestly. “It was a stressful situation, and I – ”

“No, I know,” you said quickly. “Believe me, I know. Like you said, I wasn’t able to think on the fly like that. You were brilliant. And besides, how could you have known you were being photographed?” You shrugged. “It’ll blow over.”

Before you could blink, you found yourself wrapped up in a tight hug, and you sighed a little in content at the smell of sandalwood before wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his chest. “I suppose,” you mumbled. “I feel terrible knowing that you can’t date because of me, and everything you have to do and give up, and then…seeing that picture just made it worse and…I suppose I lost my temper. I really am sorry.”

His arms tightened. “And I don’t think you’re selfish. I’m sorry I said that.”

Your heartbeat quickened a little. “Er – Draco?”

“Hmm?” His voice rumbled in his chest, against your cheek.

“Do – do you still fancy her? That girl?”

He pulled back to peer down at you for a long moment, his eyes scanning your face very carefully. And then he smiled a little. “No.”

“Oh.” You felt a curious relief spread through your entire body, and then you blurted out, without even thinking or realizing what you were saying, “Could we spend some more time together? Just you and I, alone, like…just like _normal_? Maybe tomorrow?”

“I’d like that,” he answered, his smile getting wider. “But maybe the day after. I can’t tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes. “I swear they’re going to tire the team out too much for games if they keep adding practices…”

“It’s not for Quidditch.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I – er – have detention.”

“Detention? What for?” You peered up at him in alarm.

“Cursing someone,” he said, a little too casually.

You stared. “Um…and why did you curse someone?”

“It’s not really important.”

“Draco, come on.” You arched an eyebrow at him and folded your arms.

“Well…” He looked suddenly rather sheepish, and his cheeks became pink. “You know what people are saying about you coming up here last night, and…and there was a guy saying things to me about you – ”

“What kind of things?” you asked, feeling suddenly horrified.

“He was just being crude,” said Draco evasively, pursing his lips. “And I was already in a bad mood, so eventually I just snapped and…you know. Cursed him.” His mouth twitched. “I got him really good too, I might add. Unfortunately, McGonagall also saw it.”

You smacked his chest. “Draco!”

“What?” He looked indignant. “It’s not right that people treat me like some kind of hero for cracking your code or something, and then come to me asking disgusting questions and expecting me to be okay with it. I mean, for fuck’s sake…”

“Is that what people are saying?” you said, feeling your cheeks heat again. “That you finally cracked my code? That I’m the prude?”

“Er – sort of,” he said quickly. “I thought you had heard…”

“I was too busy hearing the other side, I suppose,” you said dryly. “You know, things like ‘ _She has to spread her legs now to keep him interested_ ’, and ‘ _Slut_ ’, and “ _She needs to have some self-respect.”_ It’s amazing how quickly I can go from being a prude to a slut.” You scowled.

Draco winced. “I’m sorry,” he said anxiously. “Truly.”

“None of this is your fault,” you muttered, looking down. “I didn’t mean that earlier.”

“I know.” His arms came around you again, and you sighed against him.

“And if you want to do something, by the way, just try _not_ landing yourself in detention again by trying to defend my honor,” you told him, hugging him tighter. “I appreciate the gesture, but it was entirely unnecessary.”

He chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”

It was silent for a moment. “Draco?” you said again, tentatively.

You felt him laugh again. “Spit it out, Y/N.”

“Can I…can I sleep here again?” He leaned back again to stare down at you with an incredulous look on his face, and you hastened to explain. “I mean, the beginning is going to be awful with the gossip, but it’s not like doing it more will make it worse, will it? And I – I think it would actually help strengthen the image, you know. After this whole article thing.”

You decided not to mention the part where you just _liked_ sleeping in his room.

His mouth quirked up in a crooked grin. “Only if you don’t hog everything.”

“I’ll try,” you said, laughing.


	9. Blur

It was two weeks later – two weeks of telling people that Rita Skeeter had gotten the timing of that article wrong, and that Draco would never cheat, and that yes, you were still a couple; and two weeks of almost regularly staying in Draco’s room (which, as you had predicted, had become considerably less interesting to the other students after a while) – that you woke up at two minutes after four in the morning, in excruciating pain.

Oh _no_.

You were a few days early. You were so unprepared for this. Everything you needed was in your own dorm room, but your stomach was cramping so badly that it would be all you could do just to make it to the bathroom across the room.

Gritting your teeth, you rolled out of bed and went as fast as you could to the bathroom, practically doubled over and clutching at your bloated stomach. Once there you stripped down and grimaced at the blood you saw. 

“Shit,” you whispered, throwing your clothes in a pile and getting into the shower for the relief of the warm water. Hardly able to stand, you just draw the curtain, turn the water on, and sit down in the tub, holding the stream over your aching stomach and trying very hard not to cry.

_Stupid, stupid period_ , you thought fiercely, unable to contain little whimpers of pain at some of the sharper stabbing sensations that were attacking your uterus. _How can I have nothing with me?_ _What the hell am I going to do?_ _Wake Draco?_

The thought of doing that was mortifying, but you weren’t sure that you would have much of a choice. There was…quite frankly, a lot of blood, and even if there wasn’t you were positive that you weren’t in any shape to make it over to your dorm. The tears began to spill over anyway, despite your attempts to keep them back, and soon you were just lying there in the tub under the hot water, sobbing and feeling both ridiculous and pathetic as well as horribly sick.

This had gone on for perhaps twenty minutes when a light knock sounded on the door. “Y/N?”

You froze in terror at the sound of Draco’s voice, which sounded both tired and concerned.

_Oh, p_ _erfect_ , you thought bitterly. _He wakes up to hear me crying hysterically in the shower, and now I have to explain what the hell is going on…_

In the moments that it took you to contemplate your answer, he spoke again. “Y/N, I’m worried,” he went on. “Are you decent? Can I come in? If you’re behind the curtain I won’t look or anything, I promise…”

You swallowed a lump in your throat and your pride. “Come in,” you said hoarsely, getting to your feet on wobbly legs and peering around the edge of the curtain with the top half of your face. The bathroom was thick with steam from all the hot water, and some of it rushed out when Draco opened the door and slipped inside, his hair mussed and his eyes still tired, but they darted around the bathroom before landing on you peeking out from behind the curtain.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking concerned. “Are you sick?”

“Er – sort of,” you mumbled, wanting nothing more than to sit or lie down again when another wave of cramps suddenly hit.

He must have seen your forehead scrunch in pain, for he stepped forward a little. “Can I do something?”

You flushed. “I need – ugh, they are all the way over in my room, I didn’t even think – ”

Draco blinked and cut you off. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured, but before you could protest and point out to him that you hadn’t even told him what it was that you needed, he had stepped out of the bathroom.

You cursed and were just contemplating sitting down again due to your shaking legs, swiping away a few more tears that were falling from your eyes, when the door opened again and in came Draco, with your clothes for the next day in hand and a package of pads.

You just stared at him in surprise. “That was fast. And how did you know?”

He gave you a crooked grin. “I didn’t go to your room. I can’t anyway, remember? And I’m a good guesser.” He moved over to the counter and set everything down before turning to look at you one more time. “Call me if you need me,” he said softly, and then he was gone again.

You just stared at the spot he had been standing for a few moments, mouth hanging open, before you gathered your wits enough to turn off the water and get dressed.

It was slow going and by the end you were wanting nothing more than to lie down again, but finally you were situated and could exit the bathroom. Rather miserably, you made your way back over to the bed and crawled in, wincing.

Your hopes that Draco had fallen back asleep were dashed when you felt him shift to look at you. By the very dim moonlight coming in from the window, you could see that he was wearing a concentrated frown, and then he reached out a hand and touched your cheek, feeling the tears there. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed a pain potion?” he asked seriously, standing up immediately and going over to one of the cupboards in his room.

He crawled back in beside you, pulled you up so that you were leaning back against him, and pushed the potion vial into your hands. “Drink it,” he commanded.

You wasted no time in obeying, giving him the empty vial again so that he could set it on the bedside table and then trying to let the way that his hands were rubbing up and down your arms soothe you. The cramps were so bad that you couldn’t even enjoy how warm he was, or the familiar scent of sandalwood, or that he had buried his head in your hair.

“Thank you,” you whispered, for a distraction. “How did you know to have pads here?”

“I didn’t,” he said, and you could tell by his voice that he was smiling. “That was Pansy’s idea. She came to me last week, gave them to me, and told me that if I was going to – how did she phrase it? – “ _become all domestic_ ”, then I best put some feminine products in my room. And unsurprisingly, she was right. So really you should be thanking Pansy.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” you said faintly, slumping back against him even more.

“Is it always like this?” Draco asked, sounding horrified.

“Not always,” you answered, with a grimace.

“Merlin,” he muttered, moving his hands a little faster up and down your arms.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, after some time of just sitting there. “I probably won’t be able to, but you should go back to sleep – ”

“Nah,” said Draco lightly. “First Quidditch match today. Won’t be able to sleep again. Nerves, you know.” You had opened your mouth to apologize once more, feeling terrible that you had woken him up so early on the day of his Quidditch match, when he quickly said, “And I don’t want to anyway, so don’t you go feeling bad.”

“Shit,” you whispered. “I should go to the match. The press…”

He just chuckled. “Don’t worry about the stupid press. Stay here and rest.” His fingers were tracing patterns on the skin of your arms now. “And besides,” he said very softly, “I would want you to come watch because you _want_ to, not because of the press.”

“I do want to!” you insisted.

He laughed again. “I know you don’t like watching Quidditch, Y/N.”

“Well I don’t really understand why they do it during the freezing months,” you huffed. “And it’s so _violent_. But I like watching _you_ play,” you said stubbornly, and when he made a skeptical sound you sent one of your elbows back just slightly into his ribs. “ _Really_.”

“I believe you.” He buried his face in your hair again. And then you felt him grin. “So do you need some chocolate, or something?”

You elbowed him again. “Shut up. No. The pain potion is helping already.” There was a long pause. “Why?” you asked finally, in a too casual voice. “Do you have some?”

Chuckling, he extracted his arms from around you, got up from the bed again, and went to yet another cupboard, bringing back a bar of chocolate and handing it to you. Even in the darkness, you could see that his eyes were glittering in amusement. “I don’t normally condone having sweets for breakfast, but since you’re sick…”

“Oh please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’ve seen the things you and Theodore eat. It’s not like you actually have any rules, Draco.”

It was a pleasant few hours after that, even though you were quite sick. You lay there with him, sometimes talking and sometimes not. Sometimes you dozed. He offered to read to you for a while, and you let him. He kept getting you doses of pain potion until you had taken enough of it to be tired, and you were feeling your eyes get heavy.

It was dawn when he finally said, “I need to get going. Eat and get down to the pitch.”

Your drowsiness and the pain potion (and, probably, the blood loss) were making you rather loopy. “M’sorry I can’t go,” you slurred. “You’re gonna win, Draco.”

He moved a hand across your forehead, smiling. “Sleep well.”

“Be careful,” you mumbled, turning on your side with a little sigh. “Don’t fall.”

He chuckled. “I won’t.”

You thought maybe you felt his lips press to your forehead, but it was already too hazy by then. You were already sleeping when his footsteps crossed the room and he closed his door with a gentle snap behind him.

_**ooo** _

It was early afternoon when a pillow collided with your face, waking you up abruptly.

“Pansy!” you heard a reproachful female voice say. “She doesn’t feel well!”

You opened your eyes slowly to see Pansy, Daphne, and Draco hovering over you, still in Quidditch gear or paraphernalia (Pansy had painted vivid green and silver stripes on her cheeks) and all with radiant smiles. “We won!” Draco exclaimed, his eyes lit up with triumph.

“Congratulations,” you said sleepily, smiling. “I told you that you’d win.”

“Which _also_ means that there will be a celebration in the Common Room this evening,” said Pansy, grinning. “Blaise and Theo are already making preparations as we speak.”

You just grumbled and put the covers over your head, and Pansy began shaking you, laughing, until you threw them off again and glared at her. “Oh, how severe,” she teased. “Your eyes are all tired, so that’s very intimidating. Although I suppose the hair _is_ rather frightening – “

You fumbled for your pillow and hurled it at her, but she caught it easily, smiling, as Daphne and Draco laughed. It was then that Daphne and Pansy launched into an excited play-by-play of the match, which you listened to patiently, and Draco strolled away.

For a moment your eyes just followed him to see where he was going; but when he paused in front of the dresser and took off his Quidditch jersey to change into another shirt, your eyes just stayed glued of their own accord.

It hadn’t been this much of a problem not to admire him over the summer, swimming in the pool. Sure, you remembered seeing his back muscles move when he swam, but something right now was making your brain lag. And he was putting on the new shirt as he turned back to you, so you also got a brief flash of the front. You swallowed very hard and quickly brought your eyes back over to Daphne and Pansy, trying very hard not to peek again.

“…and Draco caught the Snitch from under his nose,” finished Daphne, smiling.

Pansy was looking at you with a glint in her eye that you didn’t like, and then a voice sounded, coming from the open door leading down the stairway to the Common Room. “Oi! Draco! Come down here and give us a hand!” It was Blaise’s voice.

Draco rolled his eyes and glanced at you. “Probably a bloody keg or something equally ridiculous,” he muttered, but then he smiled and swept across the room, heading out the door to assist the boys with whatever it was that they needed.

As soon as he was gone, Pansy smirked at you. “Oh, this is golden.”

“What?” you asked nervously, flushing a little when you realized that you had been staring after him, eyes trailing over the muscles in his upper back even with his shirt on.

“You. Staring. Draco.” She grinned wickedly at you, and Daphne giggled. “I think I know what’s going on here. You have period thirst.”

“I – wait, what?” you asked, gaping at her. “How did you know I’m on my period?”

“Because you’re ill today, and Daphne and I also have ours, duh,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“We’re officially all in sync,” said Daphne, laughing. “We spend too much time together.”

“Daphne and I also discovered that you two adjusted to _my_ cycle,” said Pansy triumphantly. “Which means that I am clearly the alpha bitch in this situation.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow. So that’s why I’ve been getting progressively earlier?”

Pansy wiggled her eyebrows. “You’re welcome. So, period thirst, eh? The struggle is real.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said stubbornly.

“It’s when girls get _extremely_ horny on their periods, obviously,” said Pansy, as Daphne nodded wisely beside her, with a mischievous little sparkle in her eyes.

“I am _not_ ,” you said hastily, cheeks warming.

“Oh please,” said Pansy. “I saw the effect those back muscles had on you. Your eyes were fucking glazed over. Just embrace it.”

“Pansy, I was just waking up. And we’re just friends. That’s not appropriate,” you chastised.

“So?” Pansy asked you, eyes glinting. “You’re also locking lips and being touchy all the time for the public, aren’t you? So why not just take it a step further, hm? Have a little private make out session, get the blood flowing for both of you, if you know what I mean…”

“Pansy, stop,” said Daphne, but she was biting her lip to keep from laughing at the scandalized expression on your face.

“Well, why not?” Pansy looked at you expectantly. “You have a little problem, and Draco likes to help you with your problems. I bet if you just _ask_ him, he would help you out with this one.”

“Sure,” came Draco’s voice. He was entering the room again, having come up from the stairs and heard the very end of the conversation, looking between the three of you with a questioning look, and you very nearly died. “Do you have a problem, Y/N?” he asked seriously. “Pansy’s right, I’d be more than happy to help you take care of it.”

At that, Pansy and Daphne couldn’t contain their shrieks of laughter, and you sat there, glaring furiously at them as they dissolved into giggles and feeling your face get steadily warmer, while Draco just looked between the three of you, clearly very confused.

“I don’t actually have a problem, Draco,” you said, between gritted teeth.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, brow furrowing. “I’d be happy to help you with it. Really.”

“Oh, I _bet_ ,” breathed Pansy, which actually made Daphne snort before the two erupted into giggles all over again, and once more Draco peered over at them in bewilderment.

Irritated, you just stood and stalked away to the bathroom, because the cramps were beginning to act up again and the hot water would do you well. Draco waited with an arched eyebrow until Daphne and Pansy had calmed down and until the water was running, and then he said, “So are you going to tell me what that was about or not? _Does_ she have a problem?”

“Oh yes,” said Pansy, grinning. “She does.”

“Well then, what is it?” asked Draco desperately. “Is she all right?”

“She’s mostly fine,” said Pansy, wiggling her eyebrows. “She just needs – ”

“Pansy, no,” said Daphne quickly. “She’d kill you.”

“You two are killing _me_ ,” groaned Draco, running a hand through his hair. “What the hell are you on about? Is this some girl thing, or what?”

“It _is_ , funnily enough,” answered Pansy. “She has peri – ”

“Pansy!” Daphne gasped again, cutting her off once more. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” asked Pansy indignantly. “ _We_ all know Draco would be more than happy to help her with it, even if she’s too daft to see it.” Daphne just smacked her on the shoulder, making Pansy smile wider, and Draco suddenly felt that he was going to explode into tiny pieces if he didn’t find out what Pansy meant.

“I know she’s on her period already,” said Draco slowly. “So if that’s what you’re talking about, then you don’t have to be so damn secretive. I already helped her with that.”

“Which part?” asked Pansy, raising an eyebrow, and Daphne hit her again.

“Pansy, _no_!” she shushed her.

“I – ” For some reason, an uncomfortable heat was creeping into Draco’s neck. “Well I got her the things she needed, and then since she wasn’t feeling good I gave her pain potion, and chocolate, and…and stayed up with her.”

“So you helped with the feminine hygiene, the cramps, and the chocolate craving,” said Pansy, ticking them off on her fingers. And then she grinned very wickedly. “But not the period thirst?” She clucked her tongue. “I expected more from you as a man, Draco.”

“ _Pansy_ ,” Daphne whispered, her eyes darting fearfully to the bathroom door.

“The – I’m sorry, what?” Draco asked, eyes widening.

“She’s going to _kill_ us,” Daphne moaned, tugging Pansy’s arm, but Pansy ignored her.

“The _period_ _thirst_ ,” said Pansy, rolling her eyes. “Obviously.”

The heat in his neck intensified. “She needs more water than usual?” he asked tentatively, and yet simultaneously knowing very well that wasn’t the sort of thirst Pansy was talking about.

“Oh Merlin, _no_ , you dolt,” said Pansy, snickering. “You see, sometimes when women are on their periods, they have another kind of _craving_ – not food related, this one – ”

“You’re going to _embarrass_ her,” Daphne protested. “Pansy, come on.”

“Oh, Draco isn’t dumb enough to tell her, are you, Draco?” Draco just stared back at her, somehow both horrified and fascinated at the same time. “And besides, maybe then he’ll get his shit together and make a move, because we all know he wants a piece.”

“Pansy!” Daphne swatted her again, and Draco stiffened.

“I do not _want a piece_ ,” he said, very irritably. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Oh no? So if I told you that she’s having period thirst and feeling all frisky, that does _nothing_ at all to you, Draco?” Pansy wiggled her eyebrows and Daphne groaned exasperatedly, burying her face into her hands and shaking her head.

“I – that’s not – she – ” Draco sputtered, and Pansy smiled.

“That’s what I thought,” she said smugly.

“Don’t,” snapped Draco finally. “We’re – ”

“Friends, uh huh,” said Pansy, rolling her eyes. “That’s what she said too, but that didn’t stop her from eye fucking you when you had your shirt off just now, did it?”

“Oh, _Merlin_ ,” whispered Daphne, cringing at Draco. “I had no part in this,” she told him. “I swear, if you do tell her this, please – make sure she knows I tried to stop Pansy, I’m sorry…”

“She…she was…” Draco was rather incoherent at the moment.

“Checking out the goods, yes,” said Pansy, waving a hand dismissively over Draco’s body.

“You’re making this up,” said Draco hoarsely, shaking his head. “She would never tell you that she…that she was feeling…” He tried to imagine those words coming out of your mouth; he tried to imagine you walking up to Pansy and Daphne and telling them that you were feeling _frisky_ , and he couldn’t. But of course you had to feel that way sometimes, right?

He tried very, very hard to repress the feelings _that_ brought to the surface, and Pansy just shot him a knowing look – beside her, Daphne was giving him an apologetic one.

“Of course she didn’t _tell_ me, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. If you don’t believe me then just wait for her to come back out, take your shirt off again, and watch her eyes,” said Pansy with a little smirk. “They get all stupid and vacant. It’s fucking hilarious.”

“Enough,” said Daphne, taking Pansy’s arm firmly and beginning to pull her away. “Let’s go, Pans, stop torturing him.”

“But this is much more fun,” Pansy pouted, though she allowed herself to be led away, toward the door. Before they left together, Pansy shot him another devilish look and a wink, and Daphne mouthed ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’, and then they were gone.

Draco, for his part, wasn’t sure that his body was working properly at the moment, because he couldn’t move. He just stood there, frozen, for what must have been at least a few minutes, trying to allow his brain to process the conversation that had just happened, and then someone walked over to clap him on the shoulder. It took Draco much longer than it should have to realize that it was Blaise, who had come up to his room.

“Got to have our Seeker at the party tonight,” said Blaise happily. “You’re in, right?”

Draco just sighed. “Yes, but not for very long. I’m exhausted, Blaise.”

“Is the wifey keeping you up at night?” Blaise asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Between you and Pansy I swear I’m going to fucking lose it,” muttered Draco irritably.

“What did Pansy do?”

The water to the shower stopped. “Nothing,” said Draco quickly. “Now go away.”

“Pre-gaming starts in ten minutes,” said Blaise. “So get your arse down there, Draco.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Draco impatiently. “I’ll be there.”

Almost as soon as Blaise had gone, the shower door opened and out you came, wearing comfortable clothes and still drying your hair with a towel. For a moment, Draco just stared at you with the curious feeling that his mouth had turned to cotton. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Are you…coming down to the party?”

“Maybe later,” you said, distractedly looking around in a drawer that had been essentially designated as yours until you found your hairbrush. You turned and gave him a small smile. “I assume you’re going? Star Seeker and all?”

“Yeah. Well…” He tried very hard not to think about what Pansy had said and how he would actually very much like to stay here and spend time with you alone, even though he knew that making any sort of move was an extraordinarily bad idea. Checking him out physically was very different from fancying him, after all, and he still couldn’t get enough of a read on you to risk the atmosphere and turning it awkward, compromising the strange situation you both were in…

“I could stay, if you wanted,” he blurted out, before he could stop himself.

“No, go,” you urged him. “I’ll come down later, really. I want to do more homework and take more pain potion and then I think I should be up for it.” You smiled again.

“Right,” he said slowly. “I’ll see you later, then?”

You nodded, and he disappeared out the door, cursing Pansy into the depths of hell.

_**ooo** _

After a couple hours of homework, two more doses of pain potion, and yet another shower, you were feeling almost completely like yourself again. You had a feeling that the party was going to be a long one in the Common Room due to the game win, but you didn’t plan on staying long, so you threw on some comfortable trousers and one of Draco’s spare Quidditch jerseys (for some team spirit and to play the girlfriend part, and also, okay, maybe it smelled like him and that was rather pleasant) and headed downstairs.

The sound of music got louder when you opened the door, and it was blaring by the time you got to the Common Room.

Immediately, someone you didn’t know appeared beside you and offered you a drink. “No thanks,” you said impatiently, brushing by them and eyes scanning the room for your friends. You spotted Pansy and Theo drinking a line of shots, and Blaise over in a corner talking to a girl. Daphne was talking to a group of Slytherin girls, but you didn’t see the tall blonde head that you were really looking for. But –

“Nice jersey,” said his voice right into your ear, and then his hands came to your hips and spun you around. He was grinning down at you, his face only inches from yours so you could hear each other over the music.

“Thought I’d show my support somehow since I missed the game,” you told him.

“Kind of you,” he murmured, and something in his eyes made your breath catch. And then he brought his hands to the bottom of your face and kissed you.

He had kissed you with a certain intensity before, but something was different about this time.

Perhaps it was the way his fingers traced light patterns face before taking a firm hold of your neck and tilting his head to kiss you even deeper. Your hands flew to his chest automatically, probably unconsciously, since you had been itching to touch it for some time now. Your fingers moved over him very slowly, appreciatively, and then you looped your hands around to clutch at his back, to run your hands over the same muscles that you had enjoyed eyeing when he was shirtless; and suddenly, you felt him smiling against your lips.

His hands moved behind your ears and pressed slightly, rubbing little circles at pressure points you hadn’t even known existed there, and you let out a blissful sigh against his mouth, your hands scrambling again to his chest and clutching almost desperately at his shirt.

All of this was already enough to make your breathing accelerate to an almost painful rate, and for your heartbeat to pound painfully in your chest; but he then took advantage of your little sigh to do something he had never done before: he nibbled very gently on your bottom lip. Very tentatively, as if to test whether you liked it or not. You _did_ , very much, which you communicated by gasping quietly against his mouth and gripping his shirt even more fiercely, and you could feel that he was smiling again when he pulled away, leaning his forehead to yours and his hands remaining in place on your neck.

You found that you really didn’t want him to stop, and that you had completely forgotten about the others in the room. As soon as his mouth was away from yours, it was as if the music returned to full volume, as did the buzz and chattering of the others in the room.

Before you could open your eyes, he kissed you again, very briefly.

“I would be _very_ motivated to win every single game if you let me kiss you like that afterward,” he murmured. His voice was both teasing and very deep, and a curious shiver went up your spine. It was very unlikely that anyone else could have heard those words over all the music and due to his close proximity. They felt very, very real.

Finally, you opened your eyes. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes were brighter than usual, and you were finally able to recognize the slight taste on his lips.

“Have you been drinking?” you asked, quite a bit more breathlessly than planned.

He gave you a cheeky grin. “Just a little.” His thumbs moved across your cheeks, and then he leaned closer to your ear. “Thought it might not be bad to look like a couple that does some more serious snogging every once in a while.” He paused and leaned back to study you, suddenly quite serious, and still speaking very quietly. “Or should we not? Did you not like it?”

Your heart was sinking a little. _Line_ , you reminded yourself.

“No, it was…fine,” you managed to say.

He arched a playful eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes. “More than fine,” you corrected, cheeks heating, and he straightened up, a smug smile on his face.

“Good,” he breathed, and then he swept some hair out of your face. “Want a drink?”

“Nothing alcoholic,” you told him, and he nodded and disappeared into the crowd.

Oh, you wanted to keep kissing him. You wanted to go somewhere private and continue whatever that had just been. The thought of that was both terrifying and exhilarating, however, and you chastised yourself a little. He had stopped so easily, so effortlessly, as if it hadn’t affected him at all. You didn’t have much more time to ponder this, however, before someone had appeared at your side, a girl that you didn’t know.

“You are _so_ lucky,” she gushed, and you just blinked at her. Upon closer inspection, you would guess that she was probably a year or two younger, and you saw that her eyes were hazy.

“Er – thanks,” you said, feeling very uncomfortable.

“Here. For you. You deserve a good drink after all the bad press, eh?” She thrust a drink into your hands and you took it, surprised. “I mean, the way he looks at you?” she continued, with a sigh. “All the girls want to murder you, you know.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you said nothing.

She didn’t seem to sense your unwillingness to talk. She took a drink from a cup that you could smell contained alcohol. “When he saw you come down those stairs wearing that thing, his eyes were _so_ intense. And then he came sweeping over with this _look_ , and that snogging! Wow. All the girls want to murder you, you know.”

“You said that already,” you said irritably. Knowing that people had been watching that interaction so closely was making you feel even more uneasy.

“How is he?” she pressed, wiggling her eyebrows. “You know.”

“Excuse me?” You stared at her incredulously.

“My friends and I have a wager, you see,” she went on. “Some of them think he’d be kind of rough. A bit wild, you know. Some of them say he’s probably all tame and loving and gentle. I tell them they’re all wrong. Obviously he can do _both_ , right?”

“I’m so very glad you all spend so much time thinking about him in the bedroom,” you snapped. Still, she didn’t pick up on your tone. Too drunk, probably.

“I never believed that article that Skeeter woman wrote,” she said, patting your shoulder in what she probably thought was a gesture of solidarity, and sloshing some of her drink on you while doing so. “You’re so great to stand by him through all the bad press.” And then her eyes lit up. “Oh! Hi, Draco!” She was blushing already, batting her eyes when he appeared over your shoulder to hand you a cup of pumpkin juice.

“Hi,” he replied cautiously, glancing between the two of you. His eyes ranged over the spill on the jersey you were wearing, the drink in your hand, and the murderous look on your face.

“I was just telling her how lucky she is,” the girl gushed. “And with all the obstacles like the press coming after you and everything…you two are so _admirable_.”

You thought you might vomit at the look on her face and this entire conversation, and although alcohol and your time of the month probably didn’t mix well and you hadn’t wanted a drink two minutes ago, you decided that you were going to have a fucking drink, after all, and so you raised the cup to your pursed lips. Draco’s arm slid around your shoulders, casually plucking the drink from your hand before you could take a sip and tugging you closer to his side.

“I think I’m the lucky one, actually,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow. “The press and people within Hogwarts haven’t been treating her so well, you know, but she handles it well.” His grip on your shoulder tightened.

“Yes, of course,” breathed the girl quickly, her eyes darting to you.

“It’s strange,” continued Draco, “Some people seem to have it out for her. It upsets me.”

“That is _crazy_ ,” said the girl, taking a long drink. “You two are perfect.”

“I think so too,” said Draco lightly. But then his voice suddenly changed, and it became very cold. “Which is why I don’t appreciate the trick.”

“Trick?” The girl laughed nervously. “I don’t – ”

“Your friends slipped something in this drink,” said Draco, holding up the drink she had given you. “Love potion, would be my guess?” The girl flushed, and Draco’s voice got darker. “Yes, I thought so. You really think that if Y/N suddenly became obsessed with someone else I wouldn’t realize what had happened? No, I know her too well for that. And I do love her very much, so if you all would stop trying to interfere in our relationship, that would be best. For your sake.”

He gave her a very cold glare before she turned and scuttled away, clearly mortified, and Draco turned and dumped the drink in a nearby plant, eyes blazing. “Never drink something anyone offers you, Y/N,” he told you fiercely, when he turned back to you. “That’s the first rule at parties. Don’t drink something you left unattended either.”

“Right,” you said, rather faintly. “Thank you.”

He pushed the pumpkin juice into your hands with a small smile. “Anytime. What was she saying to you? I could tell across the room that you wanted to hex her.”

“Wanted to know about your bedroom habits,” you replied, taking a drink of pumpkin juice.

He laughed. “Seriously?” He grinned mischievously. “Which parts?”

You swatted him. “Really?”

“I _am_ curious what you told her,” he replied, eyes glinting.

“I didn’t tell her anything, obviously,” you said. “She was just rambling on, and I didn’t have to say much of anything, thankfully. _And_ she spilled all over me. Your shirt.” You gestured to the spot and looked at him apologetically.

“I have plenty of those,” he said, shrugging.

“I’ve lost my party appetite, funnily enough,” you mumbled. “Might just go back upstairs. The others also seem pretty busy anyway.” You gestured around, where Blaise was now making out with the girl he had been speaking to earlier, and Pansy and Theo were chugging a drink in front of a chanting crowd, which now included a giggling and very flushed Daphne.

“You sure? I won’t drink more. You and I can just sit on the couch there and watch everyone else make an arse of themselves.” He smiled hopefully, and you felt your resolve crumbling. Staying here, with him, was _very_ tempting. You didn’t want to think about that deeper, either.

“Sure,” you said, shrugging. “For a little while.”

He smiled, took your hand, and pulled you to the couch near where Pansy and Theo were pouring another round of shots for a circle of people around them.

There was hardly any room, and people were staring at you, and you were just about to suggest that maybe you would head upstairs, after all, when Draco sat down in the small free space, pulling you easily to sit on his lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist, buried his face in the side of your head, and the fluttering in your stomach was so unbearable that you were very glad when Pansy offered a distraction by waving gleefully at you.

“Hey, lovebirds!” she called out drunkenly. “Want a round?” You both shook your heads and she just shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, and began passing the shots out to the others.

For a while you just sat there with him, talking to people who came over like Blaise or Daphne or other members of Slytherin House to congratulate Draco, giggling at Pansy and Theo’s antics. You enjoyed the closeness and Draco’s hands, which came up to massage your shoulders for a short time, and then finally you lay back on his chest and tucked your head under his chin with a content little sigh when Daphne and Blaise went off again to play a drinking game with the others.

“Still tired?” Draco murmured into your ear. “We were up early.”

“Mhm.”

“Are you staying with me tonight?”

“If that’s fine with you.” You pulled back to look questioningly at him.

“Naturally.” He gave you a smile, and you leaned forward to kiss him again before you both went upstairs and the show would have to end, but you weren’t quite brave enough to kiss him like he had kissed you, nor did you necessarily trust yourself to do so, so it was just a quick peck on the lips before you stood up and held out your hand.

Your friends called out goodbyes and good nights, and people were shamelessly staring, but soon you were up in his room and away from their eye balls, and you sat on the edge of his bed and let out a long, shuddering sigh.

“Some party,” said Draco, sounding rather amused at your sigh and coming over to sit beside you. “Did you not enjoy it at least a little?”

“Some things more than others,” you told him, and then you giggled. “Did you see that one plastered guy try to transfigure his shoes into pillows?”

“What?” Draco laughed. “No. Blaise was talking my ear off. What happened?”

“His feet were stuck. He got himself sewn in, or something, and he was waddling around trying to shake them off and kept falling on his face.”

He scooted closer and tugged on your hair with a grin. “I’m disappointed in you. You have to point something like that out to me next time.”

“It’s a promise,” you said, smiling.

He tentatively touched your hand, and your mouth suddenly went rather dry. “Are you fine with everything? All the staring?” he asked carefully.

You sighed. “Not really,” you mumbled. “But I’m getting used to it.”

He squeezed your hand. “I meant it when I said you’re handling it well. It’s all blowing over, like you said.” You just gave him your best smile, he squeezed your hand one more time, and then he stood up to head to the bathroom to shower and change. You slowly changed and crawled into bed while the water was still running, and even when he got into the other side you were still staring up at the canopy of his bed, mind racing and deep in thought.

It wasn’t possible to explain to even Draco what was happening, because most of your confusion revolved around him. He was a very good actor, so there was no way of knowing what he was thinking about any of it unless you asked - which you had no intention of doing.

The last thing you needed was to make this harder.

Because it was hard enough having everyone always staring and watching anytime the two of you were affectionate and feeling confused about it; like the whole world was playing witness to your inner turmoil. And then introducing the factor of the things at risk for you if this went wrong…

No. You were definitely going to keep your mouth shut.

But you also weren’t dumb enough to ignore what was happening here. You tried to imagine going to Daphne to explain what was on your mind.

_Tell me what the problem is_ , she’d say.

_I like looking at him_ , you’d have to say. _He makes me feel special. I trust him. I like kissing him. I have reactions when I’m close to him. I want him to be happy._

Daphne would look at you with a mixture of exasperation and fondness, you were quite certain.

And she’d say:

_Isn’t it obvious? You fancy him, Y/N._

“What’s going on in your brain, hm?” you heard Draco murmur, and you jumped a little out of your musings to see that he was watching you carefully.

“N-nothing important,” you stuttered.

He had turned on his side to look at you, and you saw him smile a little in the dim light. “You’re blinking an abnormal amount right now, just so you know.”

“Why are you doing this?” you blurted out finally, very desperately. “I never asked you…I know what you told Skeeter, but I also know that doesn’t count, so just - why are you doing this for me?”

He was quiet for so long that you began to feel nervous. But then finally, he said very softly, “Who says what I said to Skeeter didn’t count?”

“But - ”

“I saw you were upset, I reacted.” He shrugged. “It’s that simple.”

You gaped at him. “You do realize that if it works I have almost a whole year until I’m 17? You know that you would have to do this whole mess for another _year_? You really want to do that?”

“I _want_ to keep you out of a stranger’s family against your will,” he said firmly. “I would do it for fifty years if necessary, Y/N.”

This, perhaps, would not have affected you so strongly on another day. Regardless, you couldn’t help throwing yourself forward with a terrible sort of wailing sound and hugging him fiercely, clinging tightly to his neck and pressing your face into his chest as you started to sob.

He made a sound of surprise, but his arms immediately came around you. “Er,” he began tentatively, “I - I don’t know how to tell if you…do you need more pain potion?”

You shook your head furiously in his chest and gripped tighter to his shirt, and his hands began to move in soothing circles on your back.

“S-sorry,” you got out finally, in between choked tears. “I’m just feeling…overwhelmed, I guess…”

“With what?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, calming down more and more so that you were able to speak more or less normally, though tears were still rolling down your cheeks. “Worrying that it all isn’t enough and I’ll go home for Christmas and they’ll marry me off anyway. Everyone watching me.” You felt the fury now, and suddenly you were rambling. “Calling me a prude or a slut, or saying that you could have anyone in the school so what are you doing with _me_ , and – and people coming up to me and saying such _ridiculous_ things, asking me personal questions about both of us that I can’t even answer, and then all the other acting, and remembering the lines – ” You stopped abruptly.

“The lines?” he questioned, sounding confused, and your heart nearly stopped. “You mean certain things you feel you have to say?”

“Yes,” you lied, extremely glad your face was in his chest and he couldn’t see it.

He sighed quietly, and his arms tightened. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know it all isn’t optimal. This whole thing with me was also no choice of yours. Another thing you didn’t ask for, isn’t it?” His voice was neutral. Detached.

“Neither did you,” you pointed out. “And without it, I’d be…” You swallowed a sudden lump in your throat, but tried to make your voice light and joking. “Well, with Albert van Arsehole’s instead, probably. Making an heir.” You shuddered. “And you…well, you’d probably be off with the magazine girl having your fun, as you should be. Really, it’s you losing out here.”

“No,” he said lightly. “I’d be awake at all hours and planning your escape.”

You started to giggle. “Draco, I was being serious.”

“So was I,” he said. With such casual certainty. With a tinge of possession. You felt the shiver go up your spine all over again, alongside a horrible dash of hope that you quickly quelled. “But it doesn’t matter anyway,” he continued confidently, squeezing you a little. “We won’t let anything like that happen to you. It’ll all work out, you’ll see.”

“You’re the best,” you sighed.

“Likewise,” he murmured, smiling. And then he kissed the top of your head and pulled away from the embrace, getting situated on his stomach. “Sleep well.”

You tried hard to swallow your disappointment. It was becoming more or less normal that he held you out of the public eye, such as just now or this morning when you had been sick; there were also some nights or mornings where you woke up entangled together. You had never, however, purposefully fallen asleep that way.

But much as you’d like to, it didn’t seem you were going to start now. “You too,” you whispered.

_**ooo** _

Draco woke delightfully late the next morning, judging by the color of the light falling into his room. He woke very slowly, too, becoming increasingly aware of all sorts of pleasantness before he was fully conscious or had even opened his eyes.

The first thing was the distinct smell of coconut and apple, and hair tickling his face. It was a smell he knew well: your shampoo. He just sighed a little in content, still half asleep, and pressed his face further into the top of your head as if that would ward off waking.

He then become aware of your body against his. Wrapped up in him, really. Your arms were around his neck and his hands were tucked around you, and you were facing him, your face buried in his neck and your legs tangled up in his for maximum closeness. Your breathing was deep and slow, and for a moment Draco just lay there, relishing in it.

Until he became more awake and realized that he was enjoying this perhaps _too_ much, because he was having a problem below the waist.

_No_ , he thought desperately. _Think of_ _not_ _sexy things. Snape in his_ _skivvies._ _Dying puppies._

He tried not to notice how warm and soft you were, or how it reminded him of when he had kissed you last night, _really_ kissed you, and how you had run your fingers over him, both tentative and curious, and molded yourself to him, and made little sounds when he had bit your bottom lip -

_Snape in_ _skivvies_! he thought desperately, fully awake now but squeezing his eyes shut in concentration. But it wasn’t working very well, so he began to try to extract himself from your grasp, carefully, with bated breath and listening to you to ensure you weren’t waking.

His heart was thudding and his blood was still rushing south, and it all went to complete hell when you felt him moving. You made a little moan of protest in your sleep, clinging tighter to his neck and pressing against him even more, clearly not wanting him to go. Your hips met his and his… _problem_ was now becoming almost painful. _Make a run for the bathroom_ , he told himself desperately. _She might wake but if you do it quickly, she won’t know, and you won’t freak her out…_

_Then again_ , whispered a traitorous part of his brain (though really, it probably wasn’t his brain at all), _remember what Pansy said? Maybe she would_ _actually_ _enjoy_ _if you…_

_No_ , he thought fiercely, and he knew that now was the time he had to try and make his escape. He tried not to rip himself away too quickly, but his desperation to get away was so high that he merely pushed your arms away, rolled away, and rushed off.

He didn’t check to see if you were waking. He couldn’t. He just slipped into the bathroom as quickly as he could and turned on the shower.

_**oooo** _

A few minutes later, you had woken up completely and were listening to the sound of the falling water in the bathroom, feeling confused and a little hurt. It was hazy, but you were _quite_ sure you had woken up because Draco had practically ripped himself away from you and hurried off. Because you did remember that you had been very close to him. And it had been nice.

At least, it had for you. You felt a little pang when you remembered that Draco had teased you once about liking to cuddle in your sleep; perhaps this time you had taken it too far.

So when the water stopped and the door opened you sat up, fully prepared to tell him that you had felt him move away quickly and to ask if everything was all right, and maybe to apologize if necessary…but you faltered for a moment, forgetting what you wanted to say when you saw that he was only wearing trousers and no shirt.

“Oh,” he said, stopping for a second in the doorway but then giving you a crooked smile. “You’re awake.”

You just nodded mutely, trying not to stare too aggressively, and you ended up averting your eyes, cheeks warming automatically. You heard him move over to the dresser and start looking for a shirt to wear, for which you were very thankful.

“Um - Draco?”

“Yes?” He was still rummaging around, and you peeked up to be presented with the view of his bare back instead. You were still unsure which you liked better. The front side also had his face. But the back…your eyes trailed downward.

“Well…I - I felt…” You were having difficulty speaking. _What the fuck is wrong with you?_ you screamed inwardly at yourself. _How many times have you seen him like this? Oh god, Pansy was right about the period thirst, wasn’t she?_ _Why is the always right?_ _Pull yourself together, Y/N, Merlin, get it together…_

He froze, shirt in hand, and slowly turned to face you. 

A flush was creeping onto his face, and for some reason you couldn’t comprehend, he looked horrified. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Really. Er - sometimes it just happens, I - I swear I wasn’t trying to…” He stopped when he saw the look on your face, which was very perplexed.

“What?” you asked, knitting your eyebrows together in confusion.

“Wait. What are _you_ talking about?” he pressed, looking rather anxious.

“Just that I…felt you leave,” you explained hastily, flushing again and wildly regretting your decision to talk to him about it. “You went off so quickly, and I woke up, and I thought that maybe I…well I know you told me that I sort of latch onto you when I sleep sometimes, so I didn’t know if maybe I…made you uncomfortable or something.” Your voice was a low mumble by the time you had finished, and you were avoiding his eyes. But there was a long silence after that you felt you had to fill. “I’m sorry,” you said quickly, looking up again. “You’re just warm and - and - ” You faltered again at the look on his face. “What is it?”

He was standing there gaping at you, still clutching his shirt, but then he gave you a quick smile. “No,” he said earnestly. “That’s not…that’s all fine, Y/N, don’t worry about that.” But he still had a distinctly nervous air about him.

You frowned. “What were _you_ talking about, then?”

He flushed even more. Even his upper chest got a dull flush. It was both distracting and fascinating, and also very confusing. You had no idea where his strange behavior was coming from.

“Nothing,” he said easily.

You stared at the way he was twisting the shirt in his hands, however, and it occurred to you, with a jolt, that he was lying. Slowly, you brought your eyes to his face again. “Are you really sure I didn’t do something wrong?” you asked, very uncertainly.

He let out a disbelieving sounding laugh and slipped his shirt on. “Positive,” he said.

“Oh,” was all you said quietly, not quite believing him.

He crossed the room in a few strides and pulled you to your feet, smiling a little as his eyes ranged over your messy hair. And then he brushed some out of your face and said, “I’m starving. See you downstairs?”

You just nodded and watched him go.

The whole thing was nagging at you so badly, however, that when you came down to the Common Room and saw Theo and Blaise still there, you made up your mind. Daphne might tell Pansy, and Blaise had just as big a mouth and almost as little filter as Pansy, so that left Theo. You hurried up to him and tapped his shoulder. “Theo? A word?” You glanced at Blaise. “Alone?”

Blaise rolled his eyes and grinned. “Message received, Y/N. See you two downstairs.”

And with that he left, leaving you and Theo alone. You pulled him over to a corner of the Common Room where you wouldn’t be overheard. “Everything all right?” he asked, very curiously.

“I think so,” you told him. “Now listen, Theo, you can’t tell _anyone_ this…”

“I won’t,” he said solemnly, his eyes now even more curious than before.

“Not even Draco!” you said fiercely. “Especially not Draco.”

“Well now I am _very_ intrigued,” drawled Theo, grinning. “And you also came to me and not the girls. I am truly honored, Y/N.”

“Theodore, I swear – no _teasing_ me either – ”

“I promise, okay? Really.” He looked so earnest that you relaxed. “What’s going on?”

You peeked around the Common Room once more and, staring down at his feet and in a mumble, you told him everything necessary: you told him about your nighttime cuddling, that you had felt Draco rush off that morning, that he had been acting strangely, and that you were worried, so worried, that you had done something wrong but he was too polite to say so. When you began recounting your conversation with him, Theo began to snicker.

“What?” you asked, disconcerted. “What did I do?”

“Oh, you didn’t do anything, Y/N. The problem wasn’t that Draco didn’t like being close to you,” said Theo, grinning very mischievously. “The problem was that he _did_.” You just stared at him, wide-eyed and uncomprehending, until Theo rolled his eyes, wiggled his eyebrows, and gestured below his own belt with a significant look.

Your jaw dropped and your face became so hot you thought you might explode. “His – he was – ”

“Uh huh,” said Theo, nodding wisely and still smiling. Your hands flew up to cover your cheeks, and something about the way you were looking at Theo made his eyes flicker. “Don’t freak out,” he advised earnestly. “That’s probably why he didn’t want you to know, because he knew you’d get all weird and it would affect the fake dating thing. Because, quite frankly, your acting skills are shit.”

“Gee, thanks,” you replied, still feeling rather dazed.

He gave you a significant look. “Relax. It isn’t as big a deal as you think.”

“Oh?” you asked faintly, because you had no idea about such things.

“No,” said Theo firmly. “He’s a man. It happens all the time. In the middle of the night while sleeping it happens multiple times to all of us, you know? Even little kids and whatever. So it’s not sexy dreams or anything.”

“Really?” Your face was still on fire, but you were also curious now.

Theo pursed his lips. “I know this isn’t the time to rail on Hogwarts for not having sex ed, but – ”

“No, it’s not,” you said, rolling your eyes.

Theo grinned. “Look, Y/N. One time in third year, I got one from a sexy looking peach.”

“A…peach?” you repeated, aghast.

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “The curves or something, I don’t know. Guys are gross.”

“Draco isn’t gross,” you said automatically, rather defensively.

Theo smiled again, eyes glinting. “Maybe not on purpose, but he _is_ a guy. A guy that kisses his friend a lot, and then has her pressed up against him in his bed most nights. What, you think that doesn’t affect little Draco at all?”

“I didn’t – I never thought – Theodore, please don’t refer to that part of him as “little Draco” to me ever again,” you said desperately.

Theo laughed loudly. “Sorry. But really, don’t freak out, okay? Act normally. It’s not a big deal.” He patted you on the shoulder. “Now let’s go, I’m fucking starving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: ridiculous situational sitcom style attempts at humor, Pansy mortifying others with her lack of filter, awkward/mortifying situations, language, mentions of alcohol/love potion drugging attempts, sexual themes/concepts, the usual slow burn dragging, and….this chapter is not for those squeamish about regular bodily functions (…..periods and boners, okay, we’re gonna see periods and boners. Yep…that’s where we’re at with this story, I guess).


	10. The Second Article

When you finally made it to the breakfast table and you slid in beside Draco, who just gave you a cheerful smile and poured himself more orange juice, you threw Theo another automatic, panicked glance, feeling distinctly awkward. _  
_

_Be cool_ , he mouthed at you, looking rather stern.

You could not simply _be_ _cool_. Your mind was on a part of Draco’s anatomy that it really shouldn’t be. But it was, and you couldn’t help a distinct curiosity.

Thankfully, you were distracted by the arrival of the owls bringing the morning post. You got two letters. One of them had come from your parents; the other was from Rita Skeeter. Draco leaned over and then set his juice down carefully, eyes widening and throwing you a concerned look; you sighed and handed him the one from Rita while you tackled reading the one from your parents.

It was your father’s handwriting.

It read:

_Y/N,_

_If you and that boy are going to continue bringing shame to the family name, I promise that you will be very sorry indeed. The Malfoys may be important in England, but we can still find a family outside of the country that are well above our station, so don’t think that I, unlike your mother, care too much about what Lucius and Narcissa think about English Pureblood rules._

_In fact, while you have terribly offended the Van Adels with your behavior and that particular option is closed, I have found another family – an old royal family, in fact, and so their son is technically a prince – that are willing to meet with us._

_Take the second meeting with Rita Skeeter next week and reign in the scandal and whispers of infidelity, or I swear to you I will marry you off this very spring, regardless of who your boyfriend is.  
_

_Father_

_P.S: And you best stop immediately with the added scandal of sleeping in the Malfoy boy’s room. We’re a proud, traditional family, and you’re acting like a common whore._

For a long moment you just sat, staring unseeingly at the parchment. You didn’t even hear Draco’s voice until he was practically shouting, having said your name at least five times, his hand gripping your shoulder. “Y/N! Hey!”

You turned mechanically to gaze at him, still only half present. His eyes were full of concern. “What is it?” he pressed anxiously. “What does it say?”

Wordlessly, you simply handed him the letter and watched numbly as he read it. He too stared down at it for a long time after his eyes stopped moving down the page, and you didn’t miss the horror that flashed in his eyes before he looked up at you with his face carefully arranged into a reassuring expression. “It’s all fine,” he said quickly, and your face twisted.

“ _Fine_?” you practically shrieked, voice shaking. “In what world is this _fine_ , Draco?”

“Whatever is happening, you two need to take this elsewhere,” hissed Pansy from your other side, nudging you roughly and throwing Draco a significant look over your shoulder. And indeed, people were beginning to look over curiously at your tone. Draco immediately snatched up the two letters, took your hand, and pulled you from the Great Hall. You didn’t protest as he led you all the way out into the courtyard, where a few students were around, but you had much more privacy.

He turned to you and grasped your face firmly. “Listen,” he said, very quietly. “It is fine. It _is_. Rita wants to see us again next weekend in Hogsmeade. We have a whole week to practice. Pansy can play Rita and ask us questions and we’ll have all our responses planned, okay?”

“A prince,” was all you were able to get out, fearfully. “Draco, a fucking _prince_ …”

You saw the flash of panic and helplessness on his face, and knew he felt it too. He was realizing it, too. He was beginning to see that all of this rested on your father caring more about the Malfoys than others; it rested on Draco’s worth as a potential husband, and if that worth was destroyed and put to competition against another boy, a foreign, wealthy prince – how could he win?

“Yeah, well I’m a Malfoy,” he said roughly. “That counts for enough. We just have to make sure this interview goes well. Okay?” His grip tightened on your face. “ _Okay_? Say it, Y/N.”

“Okay,” you whispered, feeling your bottom lip tremble.

He steadied it with his lips. The kiss was quick but almost rough, and it made you breathless. “It’s fine,” he told you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Right,” you choked out.

“Don’t think about it now,” he said urgently, shaking you a little. “After class we’ll talk to Pansy, and make a plan, and it will all be all right.”

* * *

It had been decided, of course, that Pansy was to help you and Draco prepare for the second interview by asking possible questions that Rita might cook up to throw you, and so later that evening – after a very long, very exhausting day of classes from which you were quite sure you hadn’t absorbed any of the material whatsoever – you, Daphne, Draco, and Pansy all paused at the bottom of the staircase between the boys and girls dorms before bed.

“Tomorrow,” said Pansy firmly, but also very quietly, so none of the curious bystanders in the Slytherin Common Room could hear. “I’ll write up some questions and we’ll practice. Every day.”

“Thank you,” you said in a small voice, feeling rather queasy.

Draco stepped forward and surprised you by kissing you again. 

He had been surprising you a lot more than usual today by doing that, and you couldn’t say that you minded it. It was a goodbye kiss, though, and that thought made you sad. It felt strange to be sleeping apart from him after the weeks of essentially living in his dorm with him.

“Goodnight,” he said softly when he pulled away, giving you a crooked and very breathtaking smile before he turned and headed up the staircase to his dormitory.

“Goodnight to you, too!” Pansy called after him, rolling her eyes. “It’s like Daphne and I didn’t even exist,” she grumbled, and Daphne grinned.

“I don’t think anyone else exists for Draco when Y/N’s around,” she said, loud enough so that the other Slytherins could hear, but your heart still fluttered in your chest anyway.

“Oh yes, I’m quite aware,” said Pansy loftily, as the three of you made your way up the staircase. “Still, how rude of him. After dinner tomorrow we’re going to start making sure the two of you are ready, Y/N, don’t worry. We’ll put old Skeeter in her place…”

And sure enough, the next evening Pansy dragged you and Draco to an empty classroom, took out a piece of paper with a flourish, and drew her wand to summon three chairs over. She sat down in hers and looked at the two of you very expectantly. “Well, sit down, sit down, I don’t have all day!” she said shrilly. “I’m a very busy reporter, you know, so don’t be rude.”

“Oh Merlin,” muttered Draco, throwing you an exasperated glance and dropping into one of the chairs. You followed suit, unsure whether to roll your eyes or laugh at the situation.

“So,” said Pansy briskly, rustling the paper dramatically and importantly, and you giggled. She peered at you severely, completely straight-faced. “Something funny, Miss Y/L/N?”

“No,” you answered, pressing your lips together and trying to get into character but unable to resist adding, “But where are your horribly hideous horn-rimmed glasses, Ms. Skeeter? Are you sure you can read the questions, or should we come back another day?”

Draco chuckled, and Pansy just shot you her best glare. “Insulting me is the first step toward a poor article, Miss Y/L/N, remember that,” she chastised. “So contain yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you said, grinning.

“ _So_ ,” said Pansy, giving you another glare and then sitting up straighter in her chair and lifting her nose rather pretentiously. “So, you two have been denying what I’ve been writing in my article, isn’t that true?”

“Yes,” said Draco immediately, “I would _never_ – ”

“Don’t interrupt me, Mr. Malfoy,” said Pansy sharply, and Draco snapped his mouth shut and stared at her with such indignation and incredulity that you couldn’t help but giggle again.

“I apologize, Ms. Skeeter,” he said pleasantly. “I thought you asked a question.”

“Yes well,” Pansy sniffed, clearly enjoying herself, “Answer it then, Mr. Malfoy, if you’re so eager. Why have you been telling people I was spreading lies?”

“That’s not what we were implying,” he said, in a perfectly gracious tone that you were sure that you would never, ever achieve, whether you were faking it now for your friends or actually in the presence of Rita Skeeter. “We merely said there was an honest mistake with the timeline.”

“Really?” countered Pansy, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And so when was your relationship with this other girl, Mr. Malfoy?”

“In the spring,” he said easily. “Before Y/N. I would never dream of cheating on her. Why would I? She’s everything to me.” He reached over and covered your hand, and a jolt of electricity shot up your spine and your heart accelerated. _You’re practicing_ , you reminded yourself. _You bloody idiot._

“Is that so?” said Pansy dryly. “But the picture was in the rose gardens, Mr. Malfoy. Wouldn’t the roses only look that way in the summertime?”

There was a long, horrible pause.

“His family enchants them so that they are perfectly in bloom in the spring and summer,” you blurted out quickly. “They’re a special kind of rose.”

“Hmm,” said Pansy. “Are you quite sure, Y/N dear? You have full trust in him?”

“Yes,” you said fiercely. “I do.”

“Well then,” said Pansy, rustling her paper importantly again. “That leads me to my next question. Rumor has it that you’ve been spending your nights in Draco’s bed, Y/N.” Pansy shook her head in mock disappointment. “Should a respectable young woman do such a thing?”

“I – I don’t – ” you sputtered, completely taken aback.

“Are you at least using a fertility charm?” pressed Pansy, eyes glittering.

“That’s our private business, Ms. Skeeter,” said Draco, though there was a strain in his voice now and his eyes were narrowed at Pansy.

“How often do you have sexual intercourse?” Pansy asked briskly, ignoring him completely.

“Pansy, Skeeter won’t ask that!” you screeched indignantly, cheeks heating.

“Pansy? Who is this Pansy? Why are you avoiding my question, Miss Y/L/N? Is there dissatisfaction in the bedroom?” Pansy’s eyes were glinting even more.

“For fuck’s sake,” Draco muttered, his cheeks also pink.

“And here I was thinking you were a well-mannered Pureblood boy, Mr. Malfoy,” said Pansy, sighing dramatically. “I suppose the public will have to know about that language in my next article.”

“ _Pansy_ ,” he began angrily, but when Pansy shot him a pointed look he rolled his eyes and said between gritted teeth, “I mean – Ms. Skeeter.” His jaw was clenched but he had arranged his face back to a pleasant expression otherwise. “I simply believe that part of our relationship should be kept private, and we would like the public to respect that privacy. Please.”

“Fair enough, Mr. Malfoy,” said Pansy. “Next question – ”

“Pansy, I swear, if this isn’t helpful then you’re wasting our time,” you insisted.

Pansy looked at you, breaking character for a moment and speaking like herself. “If you don’t think Skeeter will ask the most embarrassing and nosy questions she possibly can, then think again, you two. If you can’t even handle answering that shit around me, then we clearly need more practice.” She picked up her paper and put on her Rita voice again. “Now then. Word around the school is that Mr. Malfoy is quite popular with the women. How does that make you feel, Miss Y/L/N?”

You gaped at her for a moment, feeling your cheeks heat again. “I don’t see why that matters,” you said finally, very slowly and carefully. “As I said, I trust him completely.”

“And what about the talk that he could be with someone of higher status?” Pansy pressed. “That this is just casual fun for him until he can find someone more worthy of his name and his time?”

“Pansy,” said Draco suddenly, a warning in his tone.

“Again, I have no idea who this Pansy is, but she sounds sexy,” quipped Pansy. “So? Y/N?”

“Well I – ” You faltered, glancing at Draco for a moment before turning back to Pansy and mumbling, with your heart sinking a little, “I do feel very lucky.”

“You shouldn’t,” said Draco earnestly, turning to speak directly at you now and looking rather anxious. “ _I’m_ the lucky one to be with _you_ – ”

“Yes, yes, blah blah blah,” said Pansy, waving an arm and cutting Draco off, and he turned back in his seat, his eyes narrowed at her. “I have one final question for this session.” She leaned forward. “Mr. Malfoy has exes and you don’t really have a dating history, Miss Y/L/N. Why is that, and does this bother you? Do you worry you don’t satisfy him?”

“ _Pansy_ ,” snapped Draco again, the warning in his voice stronger this time.

“My name is Rita Skeeter, you stupid boy, honestly,” said Pansy, rolling her eyes.

“I didn’t really want to date anyone,” you said quietly. “Until Draco.”

Pansy sniffed, but you could tell by her face that she was satisfied by your answer, and then she dropped the Rita act completely, grinning triumphantly. “Good. Excellent. Tomorrow, same time, same place. We’re going to make you two impervious to awkward and terrible questions.”

But as you all stood and Pansy waved her wand to send the chairs back to where they had been, Draco said stiffly, “Pansy? A word?”

You looked between them curiously. “I’ll meet you in the Common Room, I suppose,” you said, and continued on out into the corridor, but not before throwing them one last glance over your shoulder.

Draco waited long enough so that he knew you were well away before he turned on Pansy. “What the hell was that?” he asked furiously. “You must have noticed how insecure she feels about everyone scrutinizing and gossiping about her, Pansy, why would you ask her questions like that?”

“If you think Rita Skeeter gives two shits about Y/N’s feelings, then think again,” said Pansy harshly. “I’m sorry, Draco, but it’s better this way. And she handled it well, in case you didn’t notice.”

“It was her eyes,” said Draco angrily. “You’re telling me you didn’t see it?”

“Of course I did, I’m not an idiot,” snapped Pansy. “I don’t _enjoy_ doing that to her, Draco, but like I said, it’s for her own good. I really don’t want to see her married off either, believe it or not.” She folded her arms stubbornly.

“Just go easy on her, Merlin,” muttered Draco. “She’s stressed.”

“Which is exactly why she needs this preparation,” said Pansy firmly. “I’m doing this for _her_ , Draco, and while I understand your concern, it has to be this way.” She smirked at him. “Go on up there and make her feel special, if you’re concerned about that. Or are you still being a gigantic fucking coward?”

“End of discussion,” Draco growled, turning to stalk away toward the Common Room. Pansy just bit her lip and followed him, grinning widely.

* * *

One week later, after training with Pansy every night, the day of the next Hogsmeade visit arrived, and it was with a heavy heart that the two of you made your way, yet again, to Madame Puddifoot’s tea shop at the end of the snowy road.

You were both surprised, however, to see that Rita was not yet there, so you took a table and got settled in. The waitress even came by to take your order and had brought you drinks, and Rita had still yet to show up. “She’s late,” you commented, frowning. But then your voice got hopeful. “Maybe she tried to Apparate and Splinched herself? Maybe she won’t show?”

“Oh, she’ll show,” breathed Draco, his lips pursed as he rose the cup of tea to his lips and took a careful sip. “She wouldn’t miss an opportunity like this, I’m sure. Even if she _was_ missing an arm.”

“Bitch,” you muttered, trying to sprinkle sugar in your own tea and accidentally dumping in far too much due to your shaking hands. 

You still weren’t sure who you hated more: Rita Skeeter or your parents. Probably your parents. Rita, as much of a leech as she was, was just doing a job. It wasn’t _personal_ , necessarily. She did this sort of thing to everyone.

It still didn’t make you feel any better when you finally caught a glimpse of her outside, heading for the door of the tea shop. She was hard to miss: her robes were an awful bright yellow, and interestingly, she also had someone else with her. You wondered, momentarily, if she had brought one of her paparazzi, and you felt truly horrified; but then you realized that the person that was with her was quite a bit shorter, and didn’t have a bulky camera.

“There,” you said, nudging Draco and nodding toward the window. “Who’s that with her?” He squinted to try and see through the snow flurries swirling outside, but it wasn’t until the door opened and Rita trooped in with the girl that you saw Draco’s eyes widen in shock.

The look on his face frightened you. “What is it?” you hissed, tugging his sleeve. “ _Who_ – ”

“Well, _hello_!” called Rita happily, waving at the two of you across the shop and causing half the people inside to turn and stare at you. Your face heated automatically, and you had to actively resist the urge to tug your scarf up over your face and sink lower into your chair. You glanced at Draco again, and he looked both dazed and still very horrified. When the two approached the table and you got a closer look – specifically, at the girl and her long curly hair – you realized _exactly_ where you recognized it from. You had only seen the hair, after all, when you had seen the back of her head in that magazine article.

Oh _shit_.

She was eyeing you with distinct interest, but she also was giving you both quite apologetic glances. You also noted that Rita had an iron tight grip on her arm. If you had to guess, you would say that she hadn’t come here because she necessarily wanted to.

“So,” said Rita Skeeter, eyes glinting excitedly at you and Draco, who were still staring at the pair of them with mouths hanging open. Even Draco was unable to compose himself, which you took to be a very, very bad sign. “What a coincidence that she was here in Hogsmeade! Her father owns Zonko’s, actually, so I _happened_ to see her there and thought that it would be _lovely_ to bring her along to this interview!” Rita grinned. “This is Anna, by the way. But of course Draco already knows her, doesn’t he?” 

Her eyes glittered even brighter. You heard and felt Draco shift in his seat beside you as RIta’s Quick Quotes Quill zoomed out of the bag and began to scribble as she and Anna both sat down at the table.

“Rita was very insistent,” explaining Anna, smiling at the two of you nervously.

She was very, very pretty. It shouldn’t be legal, really. She also had an accent. A sudden image of their kiss from the magazine flew into your head and the urge to stand and flee from the table was so powerful that you had to grip your chair, especially when you caught a brief glimpse of Rita’s notes.

_Sparks still flying between the Malfoy heir and his secret love…_

_Can’t take their eyes off each other…  
_

_The look on Miss Y/L/N’s face says it all…._

You tore your eyes away, feeling your chest get tight and your breathing hitch.

“What shall we talk about first, hm?” said Rita happily. “I personally find it’s always better to address the elephant in the room first thing, so I’ll go ahead and do that, shall I? Draco and Y/N, the word is that you’ve been telling people I got the timing wrong about Draco’s little summer relationship. Of course, now we have concrete proof, so let’s not play games. I happened to ask Anna here in Zonko’s and she told me that she _did_ indeed see Draco over the summer.”

Anna, for her part, bit her lip and glanced between the two of you with a desperate sort of look, which you took to mean that she hadn’t done it on purpose. You believed her. If she wasn’t from here, it was probable she hadn’t even known Rita was a reporter.

You also knew this was no coincidence, of course. Rita had planned this.

_Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad…_

Your hands were shaking with the effort of not reaching across and slapping Rita right in the face, but you were also frozen. 

You couldn’t think. Your brain and your mouth were completely paralyzed, and you didn’t dare look at Draco either.

“So, Miss Y/L/N, let’s start with you,” said Rita, smiling condescendingly at you.

“Let’s not,” you said faintly, and you felt Draco’s knee nudge yours.

Rita completely ignored your statement. “Let’s talk about the infidelity, dear. You look very shocked. How are you feeling? Angry?”

You opened your mouth to say that yes, in fact, you were very angry, and that you were actually on the verge of ripping her notes to little shreds and shoving them down her throat, but Draco quickly spoke up. “Rita,” he said, sounding very strained. “Is this really necessary?”

“Of course, Mr. Malfoy, I do journalism,” said Rita briskly. “The people deserve to know the truth.”

“The people deserve to know about important things that affect the whole public, not my relationship,” you snapped suddenly.

“So do you think it will _still_ be a relationship?” continued Rita shrewdly. “Such things are so difficult to move past, you know…”

“Speaking from experience, Skeeter?” you asked dryly.

Draco immediately reached over to cover his hand with yours as if to calm you, looking rather panicked, but you just threw him a bitter look and took a furious drink of your tea.

“Er – I feel I should say something,” said Anna in that perfect, lilting voice of hers, her eyes wide and innocent. She was looking at you, and suddenly, a shot of rum in your tea didn’t sound so bad, despite it being midday. “I _swear_ that I had no idea that Draco was involved with someone else. I would never have…I mean, he didn’t tell me.” She moved her gaze to Draco with narrowed eyes.

Rita looked positively delighted at this revelation. “Ah, so you enjoy toying with women, Mr. Malfoy?”

“No,” growled Draco, glaring furiously at Rita. You noted that his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Great. Draco’s composure was gone too. This was bad, very bad…

“How did this happen?” Rita asked, leaning forward eagerly and gesturing between Draco and Anna. “How did you meet?”

They threw each other distinctly awkward glances. “Well…my parents were doing business with the Malfoys at the beginning of the summer,” she mumbled. “So we visited them at their Manor a few times.”

“And so you decided to have a second relationship, Draco?” pressed Rita nastily.

“It wasn’t a relationship,” muttered Draco, flushing a little.

“No,” Anna agreed. “Nothing serious.”

You knew what _that_ meant, and you took a long drink of your too sweet tea to avoid making a noise of disgust, but you weren’t quite sure you managed to hide your feelings about it when Draco caught your eye, looking rather desperate.

That, somehow, just made it worse.

Rita shook her head, clucking her tongue disapprovingly. “So Draco, you risk your relationship with this lovely woman – ” Rita gestured to you with fake sad eyes – “ – for a meaningless summer fling?”

“I would never – I – ” Draco was sputtering, completely at a loss for words. You wished you knew what to say. You wished you could help, like the times he had helped you when you hadn’t known what to say. But the craziest thing was that you were also irrationally angry at _him_ , a little bit, even though you knew, you _knew_ , that none of this was really his fault.

At that moment, the waitress set down two drinks for Anna and Rita – Anna’s tea, and Rita’s glass of firewhiskey. Rita ignored it, instead leaning forward and shaking her head with faux disappointment. Her Quick Quotes Quill was going so fast that you thought it might explode. “Readers of Witch Weekly are _fascinated_ by why men cheat, Draco,” said Rita. “Could you shed some light on it for us? Did she, for example, have something Y/N did not?”

At this Draco’s face twisted. The anger that was radiating off of him reminded you, suddenly, of that night at the dinner party.

“Don’t you _ever_ imply that,” he told her loudly.

People were beginning to stare. “Draco,” you tried, pulling on his arm with heating cheeks, but before he could turn to look at you, something else happened.

“Hey everyone!” called a very familiar voice, and everyone in the little shop whirled to see Pansy, who was standing a few tables to your right – in the very back of the shop, far away from the door. She was with Daphne; you hadn’t even seen them come in. “Hey, all you idiots, look over here! Look at this!” said Pansy loudly, waving her arms, and when everyone’s attention was focused on her, she grabbed Daphne by the waist, pulled her close, and kissed her. She kissed her so fiercely that people began to whistle, and it started to get _very_ heated for a public setting; and then you saw the flash that was Rita Skeeter’s cloak, fluttering by you as she stood and rushed over to Pansy and Daphne, her Quick Quotes Quill vibrating.

Knowing this was exactly what Daphne and Pansy had wanted, you decided to make your escape.

Without looking at Draco, you reached across the table, drained Rita’s firewhiskey in one go, coughing a little as you stood up and practically ran out of the shop.

You made it quite far, actually, before he caught up with you: most of the way down the snowy street, in fact. Perhaps it was because you had been sprinting and hadn’t realized it. Perhaps he had stayed behind to talk to Anna. Whatever the case was, you were crying when you heard the footsteps and him calling your name, and then finally felt him taking your arm.

That firewhiskey had been more powerful than you thought, because you swayed a little when you turned and looked up at him with eyes a little hazy, and not just from tears.

“That was bad, right?” you choked out desperately. “I’m not just overreacting? That was – that was actually really bad, wasn’t it?”

“It wasn’t good,” said Draco gravely. He still hadn’t let go of your arm.

“I thought so,” you whispered, a few more tears slipping over your cheeks. “Oh Merlin, what about – what were Daphne and Pansy _thinking_?”

“I don’t think they _were_ thinking,” he murmured. “But they got us out of there, at least, which was a good thing, because I was five seconds away from hexing her.” His face twisted in anger again. “She was goading us. She brought her there _specifically_ to make us all uncomfortable, that fucking – that fucking _witch_ – and to suggest – ” He closed his mouth with a snap, his eyes burning, but you suddenly found you didn’t want to talk to him about it anymore.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said dully. “There’s no way my parents are going to be satisfied by whatever Rita gets from that interview. They won’t care what your family thinks anymore. Or at least, my father won’t. I’m done for. They’re going to make us stop this.”

“No,” said Draco fiercely. “That’s not happening.”

“It’s better this way, Draco,” you said flatly. “Now you can be free to do whatever you want.” He blinked, and you were unable to quell that irrational irritation again, so you just stalked by him. Too much had happened today, and all you wanted to do was go sit in your dorm room and be alone. Blissfully alone.

“No,” growled Draco, taking your arm again and stopping you in your tracks. “We’re keeping at this, Y/N. We _have_ to.”

“Draco – ” you protested angrily.

“Y/N,” he said over you pointedly, and very loudly. “I _refuse_ to lose you over this. You are far, far too important to me that I just give up, and I don’t want you giving up either.” You glanced up in surprise to see that the intensity of his eyes matched his voice, and then his lips were on yours before you could blink or even properly register what he had said.

His fingers were running over your cheeks and over your hair and then rubbing circles behind pressure points on your ears, and you sighed a little at how good that felt; and you forgot all about the other people on the street and let yourself drown in the taste of his peppermint tea and the feeling of him and his warmth against you in the cold. Just like at the party – both parties, really – you forget everything around you and just clung to him tightly.

Until, that is, you heard some squeals coming from your right, and someone say (in what they clearly thought was a whisper but very much wasn’t), “Oh, aren’t they just _wonderful_?”

You stiffened and pulled back, eyes roaming around the street to see that a small congregation of people had gathered nearby, watching the whole interaction between you and Draco. They looked eager and excited, and you wanted to scream at them that they were terrible vultures, and that you hated them, but at the moment you mostly just hated yourself.

_All fake_ , you thought numbly, looking back up at Draco with wide eyes. _He remembered the crowd and I didn’t. He always does_ _that so well_ _. He was always better, wasn’t he?_

His cheeks were flushed with cold and he was breathing rather fast, the puffs of cold air exiting his mouth and creating clouds in front of his face. There were snowflakes in his eyelashes.

Your eyes filled with tears, and he opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “Please don’t follow me,” you whispered, and then you turned on your heel and ran away as fast as you could, feet crunching through the snow, trying to ignore the whispers that you heard among the street from the watching bystanders. No footsteps followed you this time, and for that you were grateful.

You just wanted to be left alone.

And so you ran all the way back to Hogwarts, not stopping until you had reached the lake. At first you only bent over, panting and clutching at a stitch in your side, but then once you had caught your breath a little you sat down, collapsing into the snow without caring how cold it would make you. For a long while, you merely sat and watched the afternoon sunlight beginning to fade and how it sparkled on the ice of the frozen Great Lake.

You heard footsteps as twilight was approaching, and when you turned, stiff with cold, to see who was approaching, you saw that it was Daphne and Pansy.

Immediately, you scrambled to your feet and pulled them both into a group hug, trying to contain the horrid urge to start crying. “What did you two do?” you wailed, gripping them to you even more fiercely. “Are you insane? Why did you _do_ that?”

“Trying to get the attention off the shit show that was your interview with Rita,” said Pansy, her voice muffled into your coat before she leaned back to grin sympathetically at you. “And we thought maybe if we did something flashy enough, she’d write about us instead. At least for the next issue of Witch Weekly. We’ll see. Maybe we bought you some time.”

“But – but what about your families?” you pressed desperately. “I can’t believe you both put yourselves at risk like this for us, I – ”

“Not _just_ for you,” said Daphne, who was also smiling at you. “We’ve been wanting to go public for some time anyway. And also, my family already knows. I wrote them last week, and they took it really well. So you and Draco just influenced our timing and _how_ we did it, is all.”

A lump had risen in your throat. “I don’t know how I can thank you enough.”

“That’s what friends are for, love,” said Pansy kindly, patting your shoulder.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” asked Daphne. “You look _freezing_. Where’s Draco?”

“I don’t know,” you said, feeling suddenly miserable. “Haven’t you seen him?”

“Not since Hogsmeade,” explained Daphne. “We saw him hurrying up the street, looking positively frantic, actually…we tried to stop and talk to him, but he said something about going to the post, said he had an urgent letter to write…”

“I think the gig will be up soon,” you mumbled, biting your lip. “After Rita prints an article that proves he was seeing another girl over the summer, my father is going to freak out. They’ll marry me off just like they wanted to before school and like he threatened again in that letter last week, and there won’t be any point continuing this fake dating thing anymore. There’s only so much we can do until then.” You sighed. “Wish we could buy her off or blackmail her, awful as that is. When does the next Witch Weekly issue come out, then? How much time before things get even worse?”

“Not tomorrow, thankfully,” said Pansy, as she and Daphne stood on either side of you, took your arms, and began leading you back up to the castle. “Should be next week.”

Together, you all trudged up through the snow to Hogwarts as the grounds grew steadily darker. You wondered just how bad the gossip was going to be for this week, since what had transpired in the tea shop would be sure to spread like wildfire. There would be no doubt that Draco had “cheated” now; the question was how to go about it publicly. For the next week, at least. 

But honestly, what was the point? 

You were tired. _So_ tired.

But it was even worse than you realized.

After all, none of you had seen the little beetle flying around your heads during the conversation by the lake. 

And even if you had, you wouldn’t have known what it meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: language, sexual themes.


	11. Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

Once at the castle, you went directly up to your dorm room rather than to dinner.

It was ridiculous, and idiotic, but you didn’t want to talk to Draco at the moment, and thankfully he wasn’t in the Common Room. You didn’t even want to think about him, which was mostly impossible, but you sat determinedly in your bed and tried to work on your homework anyway. Daphne and Pansy brought you bread rolls and didn’t talk to you more about the day, for which you were very grateful, and you got in bed early and didn’t fall asleep until far too late.

On Sunday morning when you came down the stairs, still feeling very strange about emerging from the girls’ dormitories and not Draco’s room, you saw Draco sitting on the couch and immediately considered turning around and running right back upstairs like a coward.

But he must have heard your footsteps, because his blonde head quickly turned and saw you standing there at the bottom of the staircase, frozen.

Immediately, he got to his feet. “Y/N,” he murmured, sweeping toward you, but you knew that with the people around the Common Room that the two of you had to act, and you were in no mood to put on an act, so you gestured toward the portrait hole and he seemed to understand immediately, following you out into the corridor and walking with you to breakfast.

“Listen – ” he began, sounding rather anxious, but you shook your head and cut him off.

“It’s all fine,” you said quickly. “I just needed to process the disaster that just occurred.”

“We’ll fix it,” he insisted, glancing at you.

“If you say so,” you said dully, not believing that for one second.

“It’s my fault,” he stuttered, distress still evident on his face and in his voice.

“It’s really not,” you replied. “It’s Rita’s.”

“Still,” he insisted. “I could have thought of something, but I was just so shocked…”

“Yes, I’m sure having an ex show up was difficult for you,” you said, trying to keep the acid out of your voice. You were decently sure that you had succeeded, or at least you hoped so. You knew it was unfair to be angry about such a thing, so you sighed and continued before he could comment. “I didn’t come up with anything either, so don’t worry, Draco. And anyway, I already know what angle Rita is going to go for. I saw some of her notes.”

He caught your arm, bringing you to a halt. “You did? What did they say?”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes. “She’s still your secret lover. Sparks flying between the two of you, that sort of thing.”

He blinked. “Well that’s ridiculous,” he said finally, and very firmly.

“It’s really not,” you insisted. “Especially after looking at her. Did the two of you – ” You stopped abruptly and turned and began hurrying away toward the Great Hall again, cheeks heating.

“Did the two of us _what_?” he pressed, sounding both rather exasperated and anxious as he grabbed your arm to stop you again. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled. “And never mind.”

“Y/N – ”

“Can we please just focus on what we’re going to do now?” you asked tonelessly, cutting him off. “Am I supposed to be mad at you in public, or something?”

“I think we should just act normal,” said Draco very slowly. “Just act like the press isn’t getting to us at all. We can say we were having a break in our relationship when I…” he paused.

“When you were sleeping with her,” you finished for him irritably. “Just say it.”

He blinked again and then frowned, looking very puzzled. “Anna and I didn’t…hold on, are you mad at me?”

“No,” you snapped, glaring. “Why would I be? There’s nothing to be mad about.” He opened his mouth to speak, but you continued loudly over him again. “And that’s all fine and well about dealing with the press by ignoring it, Draco, but there’s still the not so tiny problem of my father waiting in the wings to marry me off this spring, remember?”

He took a sudden and purposeful step forward, his eyes suddenly burning brighter. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

“O-of course I do,” you answered, taken aback by his intensity.

“Can you trust that I’m taking care of it?” He looked very serious.

“I don’t really understand why we can’t _both_ take care of it,” you grumbled, frowning.

“It’s better this way,” he said vaguely.

“Draco…” you started to complain.

“Please,” he implored again, taking your hands in his and giving you a very intent look.

You sighed. “Fine.”

* * *

“Y/N,” Pansy hissed on Wednesday morning, waving you over almost frantically before you could go to the bathroom to get ready. “Get over here.”

“What?” you mumbled, still half asleep and shuffling over.

“I want to do your makeup today. Come here.” She patted the bed beside her, where she already had multiple color palettes and brushes. For a moment you just stared at all of the items and then finally, you looked up at her.

“Why?”

“Just thought you could use a pick-me-up,” said Pansy lightly, but she was avoiding your eyes and something told you that there was something she wasn’t saying.

It didn’t take too long for her to do the makeup since she kept it mostly light, though there was still a difference to how she had made you look. She had given your eyes and lips more color, and you looked far more done up than usual. “Thanks,” you said, still looking at her rather suspiciously, trying to determine what had brought this on.

“Anytime. And you should wear something nice.”

You stared at her. “Pansy, what is going on?”

“Well,” she said, smiling a little. “You’ll have a lot of attention on you today, that’s all.”

Your heart shot into your throat. “What? _No_. I don’t want – ”

“Go with it, okay?” said Pansy pointedly.

“ _What_?” you grumbled, frowning deeply.

“Er – it’s better you are surprised,” said Pansy. “It’s really better that you don’t know. Your acting, you know.” She looked mildly apologetic, but then she just shrugged and pushed you toward your trunk. “Remember, something nice,” she commanded, before disappearing out of the dormitory and leaving you standing there and feeling entirely too confused.

Well, whatever fresh horrors were in store for you today in front of the public couldn’t be worse than the tea shop, right? 

That thought, while somewhat depressing, actually comforted you a little bit, and after you were properly dressed you let yourself have one more grimace in the privacy of the dormitory before you descended the staircase to the Common Room and then climbed out of the portrait hole to make your way to breakfast.

No one was very chatty at breakfast, and especially not Draco. He had given you a smile when you appeared and scooted to make room for you, but otherwise he seemed very occupied with whatever was going on in his head. He did, however, lean over to you as breakfast was coming to an end.

“Y/N,” he murmured. “Come with me. Please?” His hand was on your arm and when you looked at him he tilted his head in the direction of the Entrance Hall.

You just nodded, waved goodbye to your other friends, and allowed Draco to help you off the bench and lead you out of the Great Hall. Eyes and whispers and giggles followed you the entire way. You set your jaw and tried to ignore it; Draco, on the other hand, didn’t even seem to hear them. 

In fact, when you looked up at him walking beside you and got your first really good look at his face, you saw that he looked distinctly concerned.

“Is everything all right, Draco?”

“What? Oh, yes. Yes, of course,” he said rather distractedly, running the other hand through his hair and then stuffing it nervously back into the pocket of his trousers.

He led you out into the courtyard, which already had students that had finished breakfast standing or sitting around, talking and laughing, and which in just a few minutes time would be overflowing as the morning rush of students passed through it and the open corridors on either side to get to their first class of the day. For a long moment the two of you just stood there; you were expecting Draco to speak up and say something, but he didn’t. He just shuffled his feet and twisted his hands together as he gazed at your face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked after waiting rather impatiently for an explanation.

He released a breath. “Nothing. I er – ” His eyes darted around the courtyard, and you got the distinct feeling he was waiting for something. “I don’t feel like I’ve seen you as much the past few days.”

Truthfully, that was because you had been avoiding him a little bit. 

First of all, because you didn’t feel like acting with the fake dating charade when you _knew_ that it was probably over, anyway, even if he insisted it wasn’t. And, of course, being around him was both intoxicating and a little painful, because half of you was dying to tell him that you wanted it all to be real and the other half wanted to take the secret to the grave.

_Look_ at him, you thought, rather reproachfully, eyes moving over his features and his blonde hair. _No wonder everyone thinks he’s nuts for being with me_. The snowy backdrop of the courtyard made him look even more spectacular; the flush in his cheeks was almost angelic.

You blinked and shook yourself a little when you realized he had been speaking to you. “What?”

“I asked if everything was okay,” said Draco, looking at you strangely.

“Well,” you said slowly. “Okay is a strong word.”

He took your hands, looking anxious again. You began to hear footsteps, which indicated that the morning rush through the courtyard would begin soon; in just a few moments, it would be flooded with people and you wouldn’t be able to have a conversation about this, anyway. You were wondering if there was something else you should say to him, but he stiffened at the sounds of arriving students, glancing around again before his eyes landed on yours.

“I’m really sorry,” he mumbled earnestly, squeezing your hands.

“What?” you asked, shocked. “Why? For what?”

“It’s the only way, I think,” he continued, brow furrowed in concentration and nerves.

“Draco please, what are you – ”

But you stopped immediately. Your throat had suddenly gone so dry that the words immediately died in your throat. In fact, your entire body had both tensed and somehow become very weightless at the same time. All you could do was stand there, mouth slightly open and gaping at him in complete shock, because he had taken a purposeful step back, pulled a little box out of his pocket, and got down on one knee right there in the snow.

Your brain was stuttering. _No_ , you thought desperately, _This isn’t happening. I’m still asleep. This is madness, this is not happening, I don’t want it to happen…_

The footsteps had grown louder, but you were only vaguely aware of the hordes of students that were now flooding the courtyard. You just stared at Draco, dumbstruck. The anxious, concentrated look on his face was gone. It had been replaced by one of sheer determination. His eyes were blazing. You recognized the way he was looking at you now. It was very similar to how he had looked at you during the very first interview with Rita, when he had told her why he wanted to be with you. This meant, of course, that you were on the stage again. That had been his plan. The other students were here now, and it was time to play your role.

“Y/N,” he said intently, and also very loudly and clearly so that his voice carried more than usual. “I love you more than anything. I’ll never love anyone else. You’re the most incredible, beautiful woman in the entire world.”

_Stop_ , you thought desperately, wishing you could turn on your heel and run away. _I don’t want to hear_ _it, d_ _on’t say these things,_ _not_ _like this_ _…_

You became painfully aware of your thudding heartbeat, and the fact that the footsteps around you had essentially ceased. You didn’t dare look around at the people that you knew had congregated to watch. You could hear them, though, because they were whispering excitedly. Still, you just stared at Draco’s face. 

That was easier, though not by much.

“Please,” he continued, looking at you very intently, “Please say you’ll be mine. I know we’re young, but I really don’t want to wait.” He opened the box and you almost choked at the gigantic diamond ring sitting inside, glittering in the weak sunlight that was filtering through the clouds. There were actual gasps from some of the students in the courtyard, and the excited whispers grew louder.

“Will you marry me, Y/N?” he murmured, and his eyes suddenly blazed brighter.

For a long moment, it was quiet. The sun suddenly burst even stronger through a cloud and made Draco’s hair shine, and he flashed you a nervous, crooked smile. His cheeks had an even bigger flush than before, and he looked like true perfection.

His eyes were expectant. They were saying: this is the only way, you’ve realized my plan, I know you have, you know the answer you have to give…

“Of course I will,” you whispered, once your voice started working.

At this, the watching crowd seemed unable to contain themselves. There was a burst of cheers and applause and a sudden uproar of excited chatter.

Draco’s answering smile lit up his face, and he immediately got to his feet, pulling the ring out of the box and holding out his hand for yours. 

Slowly, brain still sluggish, you held it out. You hated that it was trembling, but when he caught it he held it steady, and he slipped the ring on your finger, where it glittered brightly. You stared at it for a long moment as Draco tucked the box back into his trousers, and then he broke your gaze away from the ring by taking your face in his hands, tilting it up, and kissing you fiercely.

He almost immediately nibbled on your bottom lip again, signifying to you that he wanted serious snogging at the moment, which sent a very unwelcome jolt of electricity through your entire nervous system and made you unconsciously both press yourself as close to him as possible and clutch at his shoulders. After some time of kissing him like this you were both breathing much harder, and when he finally pulled his mouth away, he had returned his hands to your face from where they had been in your hair, and he was placing slow, soft kisses on the corner of your mouth, your cheekbones, your nose, your eyelids…

“As touching as an underage engagement is,” drawled a sarcastic, oily voice, and you both quickly turned to see Professor Snape standing there, one eyebrow arched in clear displeasure. “I’m sure that you two are able to keep certain celebratory activities limited to more private venues, yes? Or have you, in your teenage ardor, lost full control of yourselves?”

Your cheeks burned under Snape’s gaze. Some of the students still in the courtyard chortled; you realized now, however, that there were not as many students here as before. They must have cleared out between now and when Draco had begun kissing you in order to get to their first lesson.

This stunned you a little. How long had you been kissing? You had no real idea.

“No,” said Draco, rather curtly.

“Then how is it that you are about to be late for getting to your first lesson?” questioned Snape quietly, but no less dangerously.

“Sorry, Professor,” you whispered, utterly mortified, and then you took Draco’s hand and quickly pulled him away, before Snape could take points or make further comments. Neither of you said anything as you made your way to Charms, until finally, Draco stopped in his tracks, causing you to halt as well. “You heard Professor Snape, we’re going to be late,” you said quickly, hoping that you could avoid the inevitable conversation that would be happening.

Apparently, Draco wasn’t going to let you avoid it right now. “Are you okay?” he asked earnestly, gripping your shoulders tightly. “I’m so sorry, like I said – ”

“ _Why_?” you hissed. “Why couldn’t you have warned me, Draco?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “You needed to seem genuinely surprised, and – ”

“And you all think I’m a terrible actress, yes I know. Pansy and Theo have also made that very clear to me, thank you,” you snapped. “How does this help us? This seems…” You trailed off, unsure how to articulate it. “Extreme,” you finished finally.

“Desperate times, desperate measures,” he said softly. “We can just act like we’re engaged until you’re seventeen and call it off after that. Another family – even a fucking prince – shouldn’t interfere with a formal engagement.”

“An engagement without familial approval,” you reminded him. “Are you sure?”

“I think so,” he said. “It’s the best chance you have. And it’s too late to please yours, so now it doesn’t matter how much we anger them, does it? Getting engaged behind their back won’t really make things that much worse, will it?”

“I suppose not,” you mumbled, feeling dazed. You opened the box and your eyes widened at the gigantic ring nestled comfortably inside. “Merlin, how valuable is this thing?” you yelped suddenly, imagining it falling off your finger in Potions class and right into your bubbling cauldron.

“A million pounds or so,” said Draco vaguely. “Passed down in the Malfoy family.”

“ _What_?” you shrieked, looking at him with a wild look in your eyes. “Draco, I _can’t_ – I’ll ruin it! I’ll lose it! Wearing this thing will give me fucking _anxiety_.”

“Just wear it in public,” he advised, mouth twitching a little in amusement.

“This is insane,” you breathed, trying to stay calm. “This is _insane_.”

“Not more insane than you marrying a stranger,” he said firmly. “Please, Y/N. It’s all going to be fine. We just have to play engaged couple for six months or so and then you’ll be free of me.” He smiled at you, but there was a slight strain to it.

“It’s the press I want to be free of,” you mumbled irritably. “And the staring. But this is going to make it all even worse, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Draco simply, not even bothering to sugarcoat it.

“Oi, you two,” said a voice. It was Pansy, and she was strolling toward you purposefully.

“Pansy? Why aren’t you in Charms?” you asked her, confused.

“Because this is important,” she responded pointedly. “Anyway, you’re celebrating an engagement now, aren’t you? You’ll have to act absolutely over the moon about it. My advice? Snog. Act like you cannot keep your hands off each other. Always touching or snogging, got it?”

“Er – ” began Draco, but Pansy cut him off.

“Also, skip Charms,” she commanded, folding her arms and nodding resolutely.

“Why?” asked Draco slowly, frowning at her.

“So that people assume you are celebrating your engagement,” she replied, grinning mischievously.

“What do you mean celebr – _oh_ ,” you said, feeling your cheeks get hot when Pansy arched a pointed eyebrow at you. 

Your mind flew suddenly to the kissing in the courtyard just now, or at the last party after the Quidditch game, and yet another unwelcome jolt of electricity tingled your spine and your stomach. You aggressively avoided Draco’s eyes.

“In the meantime, get some talking details figured out and agreed upon,” Pansy continued. “I’m heading to Charms, but I’ll meet up with you two later to help, okay?” She reached forward and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, and you just gaped at her as she walked away.

“Come on,” Draco muttered, taking your hand in his. “Should we go to my room?”

“Sure,” you said, feeling anxiety tighten your chest at the prospect of even more public attention later, but thankful you at least didn’t have to face the other students just now. Neither of you spoke until you had made it to his dormitory, and then he turned to face you with a bit of a smile. 

“I’ve missed having you up here more often,” he told you sincerely.

Your heart did a strange little flutter in your chest. “Well, like you said, my father will be furious now anyway, so we can kind of do whatever we want,” you told him, giving him a shy smile. “It’s been strange for me too, not sleeping here.”

“Whatever we want,” he repeated quietly, taking a step forward. Your mouth went dry. “I got the feeling you haven’t wanted to talk to me much,” he continued lightly, but his eyes were very intense and he reached out to take your hands. “Ever since Hogsmeade and that interview. Did I do something that upset you?”

“ _No_ ,” you said quickly, shaking your head and feeling rather guilty. “No, it’s not you. I’ve…had a lot on my mind.”

Draco stepped forward again. “Have you?” he asked softly.

You tensed completely when his hand came up to touch your jaw, stroking very carefully while his eyes moved slowly around your face, like he was memorizing your features. Your brain had stopped working. You couldn’t breathe. Or speak.

He could probably hear how fast your heart was going, couldn’t he? This wasn’t normal, was it? This was normally something to do in public, not here…

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said finally, cheeks so warm he could probably feel it on his hand. His scrutiny was making you self-conscious.

“Like what?” he murmured, tracing his hand slowly up your cheek now.

“Like – like you – ” You couldn’t get the words out.

“Yes?” He looked a little amused.

“I mean, we’re alone now,” you barely managed to say. “You don’t have to…you know…you don’t have to…”

His eyes got that blazing quality to them again. “I know,” he said, giving you a small, crooked smile that only made you stare up at him rather helplessly, especially when he leaned forward just a little bit closer. “Believe me, I am _very_ aware that we’re alone right now, Y/N.”

The jolt to your nervous system returned at the deepness and tone of his voice, how close he was to you, and the look on his face. There was a beat of silence. And then another. The air in the room felt heavier than usual. 

For a long moment you just stared up at him, taking in his features. The iron color of his eyes, the sharpness of his jaw, his slightly mussed hair; and your heart doubled its speed all over again.

When he just gave you a small smile, awaiting your response, you threw caution to the winds, stood on your tiptoes, and pressed your lips to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shameless drama, sexual themes, language


	12. The Second Article

It was similar to the first time you had kissed him.

The very first time, back at Malfoy Manor, covered in soot from the Floo and when you both had been practicing for the public. It felt like such a long time ago.

And just like that time, there was no public here. 

But there was also no need to practice either.

It was similar because it was very short, just a soft peck on the lips that made your heart palpitate almost as much – if not more than – some of the more intense kisses that you had shared with him.

You pulled away immediately, gazing up at him with a mixture of exhilaration and tentativeness. His face was unreadable except for his eyes, which you thought were flickering with surprise. This sent you spiraling, panicking at your sudden boldness. “I – I’m sor– “ you began quickly, but you didn’t get the rest of the apology out. With a swift movement, he had moved both of his hands to your face and cut you off with his mouth, which became urgent against yours.

It was a desperate flurry of lips and hands clutching at shoulders or shirts, and then he was sucking on your bottom lip and you felt his tongue, which he had never done before. When you met it with the tip of yours a low groan came from his chest, and it was _that_ that made you eager more than anything else. 

He tilted his head and kept kissing you deeper, over and over over, and you let out an involuntary little whimper and molded yourself against him as closely as possible, gripping the back of his neck. You could feel how staggered his breathing was becoming, hear the way it was coming in short little bursts against your lips, and it gave you a strange sense of accomplishment.

There was a tingling in your body again, like electric shocks to your skin. You could feel his heart hammering rapidly in his chest against your hands, which were trailing over him again – his chest, his abdomen. The blood was boiling in your veins. And you were warm all over; on fire, actually, and even though you were pressed tightly against him you didn’t feel close enough.

Feeling another sudden spark of bravery, you lingered over the buttons on his shirt with your fingers. You waited a moment, giving him time to stop you before you began fumbling with the top one. When it opened, he pulled his mouth away from yours for the first time. His gray eyes were cloudy but still intense, his gaze boring into yours, and yet again you lost all of the confidence that you had possessed just seconds before and were overridden with doubts.

Eyes widening, you began to pull your hands back: expecting rejection, expecting him to say that he shouldn’t have gotten carried away, Y/N, so it’s time to stop…

“I - should I not have - I’m so sorry - ” You were sputtering, face hot under his gaze.

“I’m not,” was all Draco said gruffly, catching your wrists in the air and placing your hands back where they had been, right on his shirt buttons, before kissing you roughly again.

_This is happening_ , you thought numbly. _It’s really happening,_ _and I want more, more of something, even though I don’t know exactly what, and_ –

And then your brain went a little blank, because Draco had placed his hands on your hips and took a few purposeful steps forward, pinning you against the wall without breaking the movement of his lips, his tongue; the smell of sandalwood was so strong and he was so close it was intoxicating, so it was very surprising when you finally noted that you had managed to open a few more of the buttons on his shirt. Triumphant with your success, you hurriedly hastened to open the last few, still meeting the movements of his mouth, and then slipped your hands between the fabric and placed them on his abdomen.

You felt it contract at your touch and heard his sharp inhale, and felt how the grip of his fingers tightened on your hips. And then he nibbled on your lip one more time before ducking to press his lips on your neck, over and over, moving across and down to your collarbones. You were hyper aware of the tips of his fingers turning up under the hem of your shirt, and even though he was barely touching any skin – only his fingertips on your hipbones – your breathing began to hitch.

When he tentatively moved his fingers just a tiny bit higher under your shirt so that he was beginning to touch your stomach you let out a little gasp, which he stifled by bringing his lips back up to yours. He pressed you tighter against the wall with his own hips and moved his hands up to your ribs while you grabbed roughly at his hair to indicate that all of this this was fine; more than fine.

The bravery was back. And so you pushed lightly on his chest until he took a step back. And another. And another, and he seemed to take the hint, because as soon as you both were standing by the edge of the bed and you pushed him again, he took hold of your waist so that you fell along with him, but not letting that stop your mouth from being on his. 

His hands were gripping your waist and yours were on his jaw, and then again in his hair. You didn’t notice time passing. It must have been some time before you finally pushed his shirt off his shoulders, pulled at the sleeves until it was completely off, throwing it away and descending on him again, fingers tightly gripping his face.

Another surprised and delighted gasp tumbled out of your mouth when he suddenly flipped you over so that he was on top, slipping his hand up your shirt again and stopping on your ribs. He pressed himself closer and rolled his hips forward, and you clutched his back harder, squirming underneath him and pressing yourself back against the hardness you felt. And it felt so _good_ already, so impossibly good; you wrapped your legs around him and drew him closer and he ducked his head to kiss your neck, cursing under his breath. “Y/N,” he finally panted in a mumble against your mouth, his voice ragged. “Should I – ”

But his words were drowned out by a loud knock on the door, a barrage of knocks, and it frightened you so badly that you let out a little squeak of terror and began to scramble out from underneath him, eyes wide and cheeks on fire, very much feeling as if you had been caught in the act of something forbidden. Draco quickly rolled off the bed and stood there a moment, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath and return to normalcy; and then he met your eyes, and you saw that his pupils were much larger than usual. 

He seemed to want to say something, but then another flurry of knocks, more aggressive this time, sounded on the door. “Draco!” screeched Pansy’s voice. “And I know Y/N must be in there, too, so you two best get your arses over here and answer the door! It’s _urgent_!”

Draco squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and pursed his lips in irritation, and then he stalked over to the door to his room, snatching his shirt on the way and throwing it over his shoulders, attempting to button it as quickly as he could. 

“What?” he snapped at Pansy, opening the door a mere inch to peer at her through the crack. But she ignored all social cues that he didn’t want her to come in and pushed roughly on the door. “Hey!” growled Draco furiously, but she ignored this too and came hurrying in, with Daphne trailing along behind her. Both of them were looking positively anxious and distracted, which explained their abrupt entry, but when they entered the room they stopped dead. Their eyes ranged over the two of you for a long moment – you in the bed, clutching the covers to yourself and probably extremely disheveled, and Draco’s flushed cheeks and half open shirt, and you saw understanding light up their faces.

And then Pansy grinned wickedly, and you felt a sudden sense of foreboding at what was about to come out of her mouth. “Well, well,” she said silkily, as Draco narrowed his eyes at her, “Considering Draco’s very rude welcome – ”

“Brief reminder that I did _not_ welcome you or invite you in,” Draco said loudly.

“ – his exposed abdomen, and the fact that you two look like you were just exercising very vigorously,” continued Pansy, talking over him, “I can see that we interrupted something _very_ important.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Apologies. I didn’t realize this was a thing that continued in private.”

“Pansy,” implored Daphne, giving you both an apologetic look.

Pansy just smiled wider, clearly enjoying every moment of this. “I thought the purpose of a fake relationship was to convince the public?” She swept her arm dramatically around the room. “Where’s the public? Or were you wanting to make a little Malfoy heir to celebrate the engagement?”

“Over the line, Pansy,” said Draco furiously, hastily buttoning the rest of his shirt, and you had to resist the urge to physically shield your face to hide. But Draco looked so deadly serious that even Pansy seemed to realize it was a bad idea to keep teasing, so she was quiet before Draco finally pressed, “So? What are you two doing here? What’s the emergency?”

Pansy strode over to the bed, and the rest followed her warily. She threw a magazine – yet another copy of Witch Weekly – onto the bed for everyone to see.

“Special issue, printed on the fly,” she said grimly. “It wasn’t delivered to me at breakfast. Just found it in my room.” She paused, pursing her lips. “And yes, it is _just_ as bad as it looks.”

There was a picture of you and Draco on the cover. Again, you recognized it as a picture from some time ago, perhaps over the summer at one of the Pureblood parties, because you were posing together normally, laughing and tucking your arms around each other for the camera.

How many bloody pictures had your mother sent Rita Skeeter, anyway?

The cover read:

**THE SECRETS OF THE ELITE REACH A NEW HIGH**

**THE FAKE DATING LIE THAT DRACO MALFOY AND Y/N Y/L/N HAVE BEEN TELLING**

_How did they do it, and why?_

_But wait, there’s more! What really happened with Draco Malfoy’s love over the summer?_

_And finally: the lesbian love affair between Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson finally comes to the light! What does this mean for their families, and in particular Ms. Greengrass’s expected future engagement to young Theodore Nott?_

_Rita Skeeter tells all in this SCANDALOUS issue!_

There was a long, shocked silence.

And then you let out a strangled little yelp, picked up the magazine, and began leafing desperately through it, feeling queasy. Even though the words were blurring a little on the page, you still saw quotes. 

Quotes that had come directly from your mouth.

_…There won’t be any point continuing this fake dating thing anymore…._

_…Wish we could buy her off or blackmail her, awful as that is…_

But there were also other things, wild lies that she had completely made up: the main one being that the reason you had both done it was in order to get as much inheritance money as possible from both of your families and squander it.

“How did she get these?” Your voice was shaking. You looked up at Pansy and then shook the magazine at her in agitation. Your words were warped with panic. “She has _exact_ quotes from our conversation by the lake!”

“I know,” said Pansy worriedly, at the same time as Draco asked, “Which one?”

“After Hogsmeade,” you told him, still gazing at the magazine in horror. “You weren’t there. But there’s no way…there’s no way… _how_ …”

“Let me see,” said Draco quietly, taking the magazine from your stiff fingers. His eyes grazed the contents, flipping pages, lips pursed and eyes flashing. When he was finished, he threw it back on the bed, pure disgust on his features. “Petition to murder Rita,” he said, very darkly.

“Careful,” warned Daphne. “Y/N’s little comment about blackmail is already worrisome enough to have public, even if it wasn’t serious. We don’t want to be getting into trouble.”

“Oh, shit,” you whispered, burying your face in your hands.

“I’ll do some digging,” said Pansy determinedly. “We’re going to find out how she did this.”

“Don’t worry,” said Daphne, patting your shoulder, but her expression was twisted in anguish and she was biting her lip, which wasn’t reassuring.

“I’d like to talk to Y/N,” said Draco suddenly, glancing between Pansy and Daphne. “Alone.”

Daphne immediately took Pansy’s arm and began to pull her from the room. “Potions starts in ten minutes!” she called, just before the doorway. “Not going will make it all worse!”

The door closed, and Draco immediately turned to face you.

The interaction between the two of you before the fateful magazine article suddenly came flooding back. You noted that he hadn’t buttoned the top two buttons of his shirt again. Part of you wanted to sprint away from him and the other part couldn’t move your feet. You were paralyzed. He closed the distance between the two of you in a few strides, and then stood there, staring at you rather cautiously. “Are you all right?” he asked finally.

“Not really,” you said faintly. “It’s over.”

“Maybe your parents won’t believe the article,” he suggested hoarsely, though you could tell by the tone in his voice that even he didn’t believe it.

“Maybe,” you whispered.

“Y/N,” he began earnestly, “Listen, I’ve been wanting to tell you – dying to, actually, but with this whole fake dating thing I was afraid to scare you off, and – and now it’s all gone to complete hell, obviously, so it seems that – ” He seemed to struggle for words, a frustrated crease appearing on his forehead. “Oh, fuck it,” he said fiercely, and before you could blink he was kissing you again. It wasn’t as aggressive as earlier, though, and he seemed to be waiting for you to respond, to make sure that you did, in fact, want to kiss him back, so you looped your arms around his neck, signifying that you wanted him very much, and his fingertips tightened on your back and he kissed you until you were breathless.

It took you a few moments to regain your voice after he pulled away, and it took a moment before you could clear your throat and whisper, “So…we fancy each other? For real?”

He hesitated a moment, eyes scanning your face, before he chuckled throatily and kissed your forehead. “Yes, I’d say so.” And then he pressed his forehead against yours and gave you another brilliant smile.

“How long have you known?”

“Ages,” he said, brushing a thumb gently against your lips. “Since you were sick in the hospital. But I think that’s just when I figured it out. I think it was really some time before that.” He smiled again and brushed a lock of hair from your face. “You?”

“The Quidditch party,” you said shyly. “But I think it was longer for me, too.” It was silent for a few heartbeats. “What now?” you asked tentatively.

He leaned down a little and pressed his lips to yours, lingering a little. “Whatever you want, Y/N.”

You shivered, but knew you shouldn’t be distracted. You wondered, momentarily, what would have happened had Daphne and Pansy not showed up. “As much as I’d love to stay here with you, we do have Potions,” you told him regretfully. “And a public to deal with.”

He looked thoughtful. “I say we tell them the truth,” he said finally, bringing your hands up and kissing your knuckles now. “That it isn’t fake.”

“The engagement too?” you asked tentatively. “It’s just – I really like you, Draco, but – ”

“But it’s incredibly early for that sort of thing, yes,” he agreed, squeezing your hands, and you smiled, endlessly relieved that he understood and felt the same. You hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings, but there was no way you were getting engaged for at _least_ five more years, if you had anything to say about it. “So maybe that part can be…a little embellishment?”

“A blatant lie, you mean?” you said, arching an amused eyebrow.

He grinned. “Yes. No different than before, really.”

“But is it worth it to continue with that part? I mean, people may not even believe that we’re a couple, and my parents certainly won’t…”

“Calling off the engagement may make suspicion higher,” said Draco thoughtfully. “It’s the best chance we have of keeping you safe from your father’s decisions, at least for right now. But of course we can continue on however you’d like.”

“I just want to be with you,” you told him honestly.

His answering smile was as brilliant as the sun. “Me too.” He kissed the corners of your mouth, twice, and then moved down to your neck again, and you clutched at his hair and sighed, and then he was back up at your mouth to give you a very passionate, very distracting kiss. It was some time before you had the presence of mind to push on his chest a little and breathe against his mouth, “Draco…Draco, _stop_ , we have to go to Potions…”

“Fine,” he breathed, kissing you one last time before straightening up. His hands were still on your face, and for a second he just stared down at you. “That article changes nothing,” he said determinedly. “I will _not_ lose you to Pureblood politics.”

“Okay,” you said, a little shakily, but still feeling marginally better all the same.

Yes, things were bad. Things were uncertain.

You were still in a fake engagement, an engagement which may or may not protect you from your family’s wishes for your future. Rita Skeeter had exposed the lies, the lies that had eventually become real, and now you had that mess to deal with.

But you had your friends, and you had Draco.

And you, just like him, were going to fight to make sure that you could keep him.

* * *

That day was your first taste of what the upcoming public reaction would be like and it was, quite frankly, horrid.

You thought the attention on your relationship had been intense before.

You had been wrong.

What surprised you most wasn’t that most people were now openly staring in the corridors. It was the _glares_ that some were giving you as you both walked along, hand in hand. They were so fierce that you wanted to disappear into the wall. It was as if you, somehow, had personally let them down with the news that your relationship had been fake.

“Liars,” someone hissed in the corridor.

“No need to continue with the hand holding, we know the truth,” said another snidely.

When Draco tugged you closer to his side as entered the Potions classroom to join your friends at tables on the far side of the room, you could feel how tense he was in the rigidness of his torso and the stiffness of his spine. 

But when you caught his eye, he only gave you a reassuring smile. You smiled back, and it wasn’t even forced. This was certainly not going to be fun, and while you hadn’t suddenly become more confident in the public eye there _was_ a little glow of happiness in your chest today that you knew couldn’t be extinguished. It was a relief more than anything else, knowing where you stood with Draco. And indeed, throughout the class when you exchanged glances he would continue giving you steady smiles that made you feel lighter than air.

Throughout the day the students continued being relentless, but you discovered that it wasn’t only hostility you would be encountering. After Potions and during break, a group of girls came up to you wanting to excitedly sigh over your ring. 

And so there were two groups that seemed to have formed: those that believed the articles and saw you as shallow, dishonest public figures; and those that still believed you were a couple.

Neither group was much fun, though of course the less hostile group was easier. They always came in packs, and the only way to get away from the lot of them was to engage with some of their demands – whether it be to squeal over your engagement and ask questions about things like the colors for your wedding, or whether it be to rudely drill you for explanations for lying to the public. By that evening you were emotionally exhausted, and you were quite happy when Draco stood up and held out his hand in the Common Room a mere hour after you had returned from dinner, a clear suggestion that you should go up to his room.

“Where are you off to?” asked Theo, frowning. “I was promised I could destroy you in chess tonight, Draco, and I desperately need the ego boost.”

“Tomorrow, Theo,” he replied, as you took his hand and let him pull you to your feet.

“Read the room, Theodore,” said Pansy idly, without even looking up from the book she was reading. She was curled on the floor against Daphne’s knees, who was on the couch behind her. “They’re going to finish whatever it was that Daphne and I interrupted earlier this morning.”

Blaise and Theo glanced up quickly and gaped at the pair of you, catching wind at the exact same time that this implied you were a real couple, precisely when you said in exasperation, “ _Pansy_!”

“In that case, I suppose I’m willing to cede our plans tonight,” said Theo, strolling over and standing before you both to whisper, “Although it is absolutely _preposterous_ that I wasn’t told this earlier.”

Draco just rolled his eyes. “Goodnight, you lot,” he said, and they all chorused goodnight, grinning like maniacs and watching you go.

Going up the stairs with him, your heart was in overdrive. Soon you would be alone with him again, and that was exciting. A little scary, but mostly exciting. It must have been the nervous part that showed on your face, however, because he glanced at you as he was opening the door and asked, “You okay?”  
  
“Of course.” You followed him in and he closed the door slowly shut.

You waited, unconsciously twisting your hands around each other. You weren’t quite sure what was happening to you. Perhaps it was the uncertainty about what was going to happen next, but suddenly you were apprehensive.

_I have no idea how relationships work_ , you suddenly realized in a bit of a panic. _I have no idea what to do, or what to say. What if I mess this up_?

“I figured you wanted out of the spotlight early today,” he said gently, stepping forward to reach for your waist. You sighed and stepped closer, letting him envelop you in a hug, savoring how natural it felt to be with him like this and wishing you had let it happen earlier.

_It’s all fine_ , you told yourself, feeling more relieved already after your initial uncertainty. _Nothing is really changing, after all…not really…_

“I did,” you told him, leaning back to smile up at him.

“I also wanted to spend time with just you again,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your neck.

A familiar jolt of something electric shot up your spine.

It intensified when he continued moving his lips on the skin of your neck, your jaw, and then eventually to yours. But it was very different from this morning. Now he seemed more measured, more restrained, his mouth moving much more deliberately against yours and his tongue sliding very slowly over your bottom lip. Unlike earlier, there was more softness, more build up, and it took a long while before you were stumbling toward the bed.

You both fell onto it with a soft thump again, and he was hovering over you, one hand on your hip and the other on one side of your head, and his lips were soft and addicting and hungry on yours and you wanted him _close_ to you again.

He pressed himself closer to tuck his head into your neck, and this combined with his lips hitting certain spots was so incredible that you arched your back with a little gasp of pleasure, gripping at him harder. You were just about to move to his buttons again and get his shirt firmly off and on the floor (where it _clearly_ belonged) when he started to pull back.

He swept some hair out of your face, his nose inches from yours. “Okay?”

“Yes,” you insisted, still breathing quite quickly.

He surprised you by rolling off to the side and propping himself up to look at you, bringing his hand to your cheek. “I really like you, Y/N.”

“I really like you, too,” you told him, a little shy from his sudden intensity.

“We could take this easy,” he suggested, swiping his thumb over your face and his eyes boring intently into yours. “There’s a lot of new things happening.”

You found you wanted to continue, or at least that part of you did. Your body was still tingling; and, perhaps, it would be permanently until you fulfilled whatever craving you had for him. But at the same time, his pointed ceasing of further activities meant you didn’t want to push. Maybe he was even was onto something, and there was certainly a part of you relieved at his suggestion, too. 

A fake engagement, an article outing your secret, and getting together all in a day. Maybe it wasn’t the best day for something else that was new.

And so you just nodded and gave him a smile, allowing him to pull you into a hug.

_And after all_ , you thought, snuggling up against him and pushing the sudden, worrisome thoughts of your parents from your mind. _We have some time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: language and heavier sexual themes/scenes (definitely not something I would categorize as smut, but things do get a little saucy…let’s say rated R just to be extra safe).


	13. Chaos and Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check the chapter warnings in the notes at the end :)

The next morning, things got another notch worse.

When the post arrived, there was a flood of letters that arrived for both you and Draco (though your pile was pointedly bigger than his), which made students in the Great Hall stare unabashedly. This was profoundly embarrassing because it was so obviously hate mail; Pansy and Daphne calmly began gathering them up and left, presumably to go burn them.

Perhaps even worse, however, was the scarlet Howler that arrived last.

You knew it was from your parents. For a long while, you and the boys just stared at it in mild horror. “Well,” you finally said, attempting to sound light and casual, “Can’t be much more humiliating than everything else, right?”

The Howler was beginning to tremble.

“It will be over soon,” said Draco anxiously, squeezing your hand. “Open it before it explodes on its own and makes it worse.”

“They’re going to say such awful things,” you said, wincing.

The edges of the letter began to smoke.

“Fuck that,” said Blaise suddenly, springing to his feet, snatching the Howler, and sprinting out of the Great Hall. Nearly everyone turned to watch in astonishment as the usually refined and regal Blaise Zabini dashed through the room; and it was quieter than usual after he left. Everyone, yourself included, seemed to be waiting to hear the distant explosion of the Howler.

But it never came. “Well,” said Theo finally, grinning widely, “It seems he made it outside with it, didn’t he?”

You let out a sigh of relief. “At least most people won’t hear it directly.” You drank the rest of your juice, kissed Draco, and stood. “I’d better go find him and thank him,” you said, and you left the Great Hall with hundreds of eyeballs following.

And indeed, there were plenty of occasions over the next few weeks where the group of Slytherins had to come to your and Draco’s aid against unwanted attention or even verbal harassment from the other students. And rather than placate them, telling angry people that you were not lying only seemed to make them even angrier. But despite these problems at school, time seemed to fly by, with Christmas break rapidly approaching.

Part of the reason it went so fast, you suspected, was a general impending sense of doom about going home over the holiday. You had received no more correspondence from your parents after the Howler, and you knew they were going to be absolutely furious with you when you got home. The other part, however, was much more pleasant: Draco.

The pattern with Draco was both new and familiar; comforting and exciting, and time also went abnormally quickly when you were with him. Every night since had been regularly frequented with make out sessions, always with frenzied kissing and roaming hands above the belt, but nothing more. _Just_ when you always thought things were about to go a step further it stopped – staying true to the decision to take things slower – and every time it happened you realized that you were more and more disappointed with stopping.

You came up to his room late one night (having been in the library with Theo and Daphne), to see Draco sitting on his bed and scribbling a long letter, forehead scrunched carefully in concentration.

He smiled briefly at you when you came in, but his attention was almost immediately diverted to the letter again. You came to sit on the edge of the bed and touched his knee. Looking closer, you could see that his eyes looked troubled. “You look concerned about something,” you noted.

He finished scribbling a few lines and started rolling it up before sighing deeply and glancing up at you. “I was just writing my mother. Things…aren’t great.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, heart suddenly thudding loudly.

“Your parents are furious about my part in the fake dating scandal, Theo’s father is angry at the Greengrasses because they are no longer going to oblige Daphne to marry Theo, and Pansy’s father has told her not to come home.”

“ _What_?” you gasped, staring at him.

“Yes,” he said, grimacing. “She’ll be coming to stay with us at the Manor.”

“That’s good,” you said, relieved. “Is she okay? Have you talked to her?”

“No,” said Draco. “She hasn’t said a word to me about it and she doesn’t know that I know. I thought about bringing it up, but you know how Pansy can be…”

“What a mess,” you fretted, biting your lip and feeling another stab of anxiety to the gut when you thought about reuniting with your parents. You wished you could just stay at Hogwarts over break, but you were quite sure that your father was not above coming here and marching you home. Almost automatically, you reached out your arms; he responded by opening his so you could curl up against him. “I’m worried about the holiday,” you confessed.

He started twirling some of your hair and leaned forward to kiss your temple. “I know,” he murmured in your ear, tightening his arms around you. “I wasn’t exactly sure whether to tell you any of this. I can tell you’ve been stressed.”

“Really?” You turned slightly in the embrace to look up at him.

“You’ve started biting your nails,” he pointed out, kissing your neck. “The last time I saw you doing that was the week before that second interview with Skeeter.”

“Yes,” you admitted. “The idea of going home to my parents is…” You trailed off, not exactly sure how to adequately describe the dread you felt about it.

“I know,” he said softly, his arms getting even tighter. And then he shifted a little so that he could lean forward better, with more access to your neck, and he began placing kisses across it that made you shiver. One of his hand trailed across your ribs, his touch feather light, but you already felt a familiar tightening in your stomach that you had felt on multiple nights here in his room. “I could try something that might help relax you,” he said quietly, into your ear, and his voice had suddenly dropped a few octaves. Heat surged into your body like an inferno.

“Okay,” you breathed, excitement pulsing in your stomach.

He took his time, pushing your shirt and bra strap off one side and moving his mouth across your bare shoulder before shifting, coming around to your side and lying you on your back. He kissed you for a long time, tantalizingly slowly, fingers tracing patterns on your ribs and stomach before slipping his hand under your shirt to do the same thing on your bare skin. You had a feeling he was teasing, just a little, because you felt his smile by the end, when you were squirming under his touch. And then he moved his hand lower, lower than he ever had, and you inhaled sharply when his fingers grazed the line of your underwear.

_Do it_ , you begged inwardly, clenching your thighs together to try and relieve some of the tension. _For fuck’s sake, please, please do it…_

“Draco,” was all you could gasp out instead, blissfully incoherent.

He hovered there a moment, pulling his lips away to your neck again and then to your ear to mutter, “Can I touch you?” His voice was rough with want, and he pressed his lips into your neck again. You shivered again and arched your back.

“ _Please_ ,” you whispered, somehow both a beg and a command.

He brought his mouth almost roughly to yours and wasted no time in complying.

* * *

“Pansy,” you said a few days later, helping yourself to another Chocolate Frog as you sat on the floor during a sleepover with her and Daphne. Your voice was tentative and uncertain. You had been thinking of how to broach this subject with her, and had actually attempted it on more than a few occasions over the past few days, but had always failed miserably.

“Yes?” She was expertly twirling Daphne’s hair into French braids.

“Er…Draco told me you’d be staying with him over the holiday.”

She glanced at you, her gaze searching before it neutralized. “Yes,” she said, a hint of something in her voice that was not her usual tone.

This was not encouraging for further conversation, but your concern for her made the next words spill out of your mouth anyway. “Well, um, are you…you know…”

“Okay?” Pansy’s eyes were back on Daphne’s hair, a faint, humorless smile gracing her lips. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell any of you about my parents. You’d all be treating me like I’m some sort of injured puppy.”

Daphne shot you a look of sympathy.

“No!” you insisted, frowning. “No, I just wanted to…see how you were.”

“Perfectly fine,” she said, though you could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes for a second. Only a split second - so brief that they could have been imagined - and then her face was back to being severe and a little smug. “Pleased, actually,” she continued. “I don’t have to go back to their place, do you realize how great that is? Narcissa will treat me like a queen. Living with the Malfoys during holidays will be much better.”

“So it’s…um…permanent?” you asked tentatively.

“Seems that way,” said Pansy, a little too lightly. “Not surprising, is it?”

“Well,” you said, rather uncomfortably, “If you need to talk…”

“Oh, I do want to talk, but not about this,” said Pansy, flashing you a suddenly wicked grin. “I want to hear about some more interesting gossip. Like, for example, how things are going with Draco.”

“Oh, _yes_ ,” said Daphne, peeking up at you with a small, knowing smile. “I have also been desperately curious about that.”

“Well, I have no idea what to get him as a Christmas present,” you lamented, with a sigh. “And the last Hogsmeade visit is tomorrow. I mean, he has plenty of money. What will I buy him that he can’t just buy himself?”

“Then it has to be something personal, doesn’t it?” said Pansy.

“It’s strange,” said Daphne, smiling contentedly. “I feel like you’ve been together for ages, but it’s really only officially been weeks, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” you told her. “But I think in our minds we already were for a long time.”

“Have you told him that you love him?” asked Daphne curiously.

“Er – no,” you admitted.

“Why not? I mean, you do, don’t you?” asked Pansy shrewdly.

“Of course I do!” you said hastily. “It’s just…” You trailed off, giving them both a rather helpless and desperate look, which only made Pansy laugh.

“You look positively anguished,” she commented, grinning as she moved over and began pulling your hair back into braids instead, having finished with Daphne’s. “Spill it, Y/N. What’s wrong?”

“Well, whenever we…um…”

“Are getting busy,” Pansy filled in, nodding resolutely. “Continue.”

“But that’s just the thing!” you burst out, with some agitation. “We agreed to take things easy at the beginning, so normally he sort of pulls away as soon as things get – you know – ”

“Heated,” supplied Pansy, wiggling her eyebrows. “Hot and heavy.”

“Exactly,” you said, sighing.

“So you’ve done nothing but make out, is that it?” she pressed, looking appalled.

“Not exactly,” you said, feeling your face get warm as you remembered back on the night that he had been writing that letter. “There’s been some…”

“Fooling around,” finished Pansy, grinning.

“Well yes,” you said, feeling suddenly very glad that Pansy could so openly talk about things without shame so that you didn’t necessarily have to say them. “But I want…more now,” you finished significantly.

Pansy paused the movements of her fingers in your hair, let out a holler, snatched a chocolate, threw it in the air, and caught it expertly in her mouth. “Good for you. You know what you want, and I like that.”

“That doesn’t make it easier to try and go for it,” you muttered. “What if he doesn’t want to? I don’t want to be pushy.”

“Oh, please,” said Pansy, rolling her eyes. “There is a zero percent chance of that being an actual problem. Draco is probably just being insecure or a coward about it because he doesn’t want to scare you off. As usual.” She laughed.

Daphne looked at you with her eyes glimmering and a huge smile. “I think I’ve just had an idea,” she said, scrambling to grab her wand and waving it.

A magazine flew out of a bedside table and over to your hands. “ _Oh_ ,” you said, eyes widening. It was a lingerie order magazine.

“This will give Draco the message loud and clear about what you want,” said Daphne. “And it can also function as a Christmas present. A two for one.” She gave you a smug grin, and then she and Pansy gave each other high fives.

“An excellent idea, my love,” congratulated Pansy, leaning over to peck her on the lips.

“I try,” said Daphne airily, but she was smiling too widely to appear aloof.

You were already thumbing through the pages of the scantily clad women. “I can’t imagine myself wearing most of these, much less presenting it to Draco like some sort of model,” you told them.

“But you can imagine yourself naked with him?” asked Pansy, laughing.

“Well I – I don’t know, that’s different!” you exclaimed, throwing her an indignant look and feeling your cheeks get hotter. But then you pointed at one. “Although this one is nice, right?”

Pansy leaned over to look and snorted. “Sure, if you’re a fucking nun.”

Daphne just giggled and held out her hand. “Here, I’ll pick it out. Clearly I’m the middle ground.” You relinquished the magazine to Daphne, trusting her infinitely more than Pansy when it came to such things, and it was silent for a while except for the rustle of magazine pages as Pansy finished braiding your hair and you snacked on more sweets.

“There,” said Daphne finally, flipping it around and pointing it out to you.

You nodded. “I think I can do that one.”

“Should I just order it for you?”

“Probably easier that way. Thank you,” you told her gratefully, trying not to let the nerves settle in your stomach already.

* * *

“Well,” said Theo in delight as he unwrapped the book that you had given him and flashed it around to the rest of the room. “No one can beat this, I’m afraid.” He grinned at you. “How did you know?”

You giggled. “It wasn’t that hard, Theo, you have your nose in a book at least half the time, so all I had to do was look at the title and track down the next one.”

The six of you were sitting in Draco’s room in a circle, gleefully unwrapping presents, despite the fact that it was still a week until Christmas.

But the Hogwarts Express would be taking you home the next day, and while you would all see each other on Christmas Eve, it would be at a party thrown by the adults, and so Pansy had suggested you have a little get together here, a Christmas party for the young people that everyone agreed was “much better” than any fancy party at home. Theo had even brought some spiked eggnog, though you had only been able to drink one glass. Your nerves were too high and your stomach had started to feel queasy after a few drinks, so you abstained from more alcohol after that.

Draco slung an arm around your shoulders and you peeked up at him. He smiled down at you, and you felt your heartbeat become even more violent in your chest and the jittery feeling of butterflies in your stomach get worse as you thought of what you were wearing under your clothes.

“Here,” Daphne had said, giving the little lingerie bag to you with a wide smile the day before. “I would recommend putting it on under your clothes at some point, making him close his eyes, and then taking off everything but.”

“Oh, yes, excellent idea,” Pansy had agreed, rubbing her hands together.

Draco leaned over to murmur in your ear as Blaise began opening his present from Pansy. “I have things for you, but I want to give them to you after,” he explained, his fingers tightening on your shoulder and pulling you closer. “Alone.”

That familiar shiver ran up your spine, even though his voice was mild and completely free from any implications. “Me too,” you whispered back.

After a pleasant couple of hours, your friends all began to make their way out of Draco’s room, everyone chorusing _thank you_ and _goodnight_ and _Happy early Christmas_ ; Daphne and Pansy both gave you a wide grin before exiting and a subtle thumbs up; and then they were all gone, leaving you and Draco alone.

“Me first?” he asked, smiling.

You nodded, and he swept over to one of his dressers and came back with two wrapped gifts; one was smaller, a rectangular shaped box, and the other was large, soft, and squishy to the touch. “Any preference which I open first?”

“No,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and patting it for you to join him. You decided on the box-shaped gift first, and found it to be a necklace, white gold and glittering in the faint candlelight of the room, and no doubt incredibly expensive. “Do you like it?” he asked, after a long moment of silence.

“I love it,” you breathed, gesturing him to put it on you.

He did so; the slight brushing of his fingers against your neck was already distracting, making your stomach twist tighter. “I wanted something real from me to offset the fake engagement ring,” he said quietly, his breath tickling your neck before he pressed his lips into it, and you sighed happily.

Coming back around, he pointed at the other one, eyes glittering. “Next.”

When you ripped it open you saw that it was a pillow, and upon your brief look of confusion, he laughed, edging closer and taking your face in his hands. “Now, I made sure it is a very nice pillow,” he said, looking amused. “One of the very best. But it’s a symbolic gift more than anything: I want you to have your own things for this room.” And suddenly he was leaning forward and kissing you, tenderly, deeply, his tongue dragging the curve of your bottom lip, and you melted against him automatically, making a little sound of protest when he pulled away.

“Because it’s also yours,” he continued, kissing you again, and then placing kisses on your jaw in between his words. “Everything that’s mine is yours.” His mouth moved to your neck, and then your shoulder, and then he came up to nibble teasingly on your bottom lip again, and you were rapidly becoming almost helpless in his arms. “I love waking up to you,” he told you, his fingers becoming tighter on your waist. He kissed you again, and then he pulled away to look at you very seriously.

He took a deep breath, and then smiled gently. “I love you,” he said steadily.

Your heart swelled, felt capable of bursting there in your chest. “I love you too,” you told him, and then yanked him to you fiercely by his tie, impatient.

“I’ve loved you so long,” he confessed, between desperate kisses to your mouth, your face, your neck…you tilted your head back with a sigh.

Your self-control was beginning to wane. But even though his mouth was back on yours and he was beginning to nudge you backward to lie on your back, you lightly pushed him away. “I still have my present for you!” you got out, quickly standing up off the bed and turning to face him.

He raked a hand through his hair, looking bemused at your sudden escape. “Okay,” he said, smiling.

“Close your eyes.”

His mouth quirked up into a sideways smile. “Well now I am _very_ curious.”

“Just do it, Draco,” you pleaded, and when he complied, still grinning, by closing his eyes and putting his hands over them, you stood slowly and began to very silently and quickly take off the clothes you had on to reveal the lingerie you were already wearing beneath. “No peeking!” you told him sternly, even though he had made no move to do so. Your fingers were trembling violently with both fear at your boldness and a certain exhilaration.

“I’m not peeking,” he said, chuckling.

You made sure your clothes didn’t make a sound when you set them carefully down to the side, on the ground; and then you smoothed the front of the lingerie dress, stood tall as Pansy had instructed you, and said, in a voice you were fighting to keep steady, “Okay. Open.”

He did so, still smiling widely, and then he caught sight of you and the smile disappeared; his face filled with utter shock, his eyes got so wide that you thought they truly might bulge out of his sockets, and his throat bobbed as he tried to swallow but clearly failed. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything – he just sat there, gazing at you with a dazed expression on his face, and you suddenly became very uncertain that this had been a good idea.

“Well I-I got it for you,” you told him, with a shy, nervous smile and fighting the sudden desire to cross your arms over yourself and hide, or perhaps sprint away. “If you don’t like it, I can…”

He suddenly let out a disbelieving laugh at this, cutting you off; and then, finally, he blinked. “Not like it?” he repeated, eyes now flicking up and down you in a way that was suddenly making you feel very warm. “This is, quite possibly, the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You giggled nervously. “Draco, stop it.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. _Merlin_.” He was still staring, a blazing light in his eyes.

_Okay. Going well so far. Now go toward him. Go kiss him. Seduce him. Show him very clearly what you want._

But you were frozen in place, muscles locked.

Whether it was anticipation or fear or some mixture of the two, you weren’t sure. You were entirely out of your element being seductive. This was not something you had ever done, nor something you felt you would even be mildly good at doing, and so you just stood there, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Y/N?” he questioned after a moment, a crease of concern appearing on his forehead. “What is it?”

“N-nothing, I just – um – ” You stepped forward and touched his chest, and then tentatively straddled him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Kiss me,” you requested, and he leaned forward and did so immediately. His hands moved to your hips and you pressed yourself to him with enthusiasm, waiting a few moments before pointedly hooking your fingers in the waistband of his trousers.

He broke the movement of his lips on yours. “Y/N,” he muttered, a little raggedly, and still sounding uncertain, and your heart clenched in your chest a little.

“Is – is that not – ” You swallowed and gazed up at him before gesturing to the lingerie you were wearing. “You see, I hadn’t exactly planned…”

“What?” he murmured, when you faltered. His eyes, which had still been closed, opened to look at you, and his forehead was tilted against yours.

You hesitated, and then said pointedly, “Well I-I wasn’t exactly planning on _wearing_ your present for very long.” Your cheeks got so hot it was painful when his eyes shot open and he just stared at you, his mouth slightly open. It almost would have been funny had you not been so nervous. “Do…” You swallowed, hard, yet again. “Do you want that too?”

It took him a moment to respond. “ _Yes_ ,” he said finally. “Obviously.”

You laughed nervously. “I don’t know if it’s just me being oblivious as usual, but to me it wasn’t that obvious.” You kissed him very softly.

“I was hesitant,” he admitted.

Your heart sank. “I don’t want to pressure you,” you began quickly, but he chuckled, shaking his head and moving a thumb across your face.

“Oh no, I want you _very_ badly,” he assured you, and you felt another twinge in your stomach, a thrill and a tightening of excitement. “I just didn’t know how slow you wanted things to go…”

“Draco,” you said, voice a little strained. ”The slowness in this department has been quite literally almost killing me.”

His pupils expanded rapidly then, his features twisting into pure desire as his eyes flicked up and down you again before he smiled, pulling you closer against him. “Good to know,” he breathed, running a hand over one of the lingerie straps, and then his mouth was on yours, and it was desperate, and his hand was trailing your thighs and then tugging them so that you were even closer to him.

“I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, breaking away for a moment.

“Me neither,” he said, suddenly lifting you and turning you over to lie you back on the bed.

He hovered over you, still glancing up and down your body with appreciation, but you could also detect the appearance of the slightest hint of nerves in his eyes. “I…I think it’s going to hurt you. At the beginning. I’ll be careful, but…”

“I know,” you answered quietly, giving him a small smile and tugging a little on his tie again until his face was inches away from yours. “We’ll figure it out. I trust you.” And then, suddenly, you gave him a mischievous smile that could rival Pansy’s, as a burst of confidence and playfulness overcame you.

It was Draco, after all. Nothing to worry about.

“Now go on, Draco,” you said teasingly. “Unwrap your present.”

* * *

The room had been comfortably silent for some time now, and the only movement was the flickering of the candlelight on the walls.

Draco’s hand was lightly tracing patterns on your bare shoulder and your eyes were closed. You were lying on his chest and feeling more relaxed than you had in a very long time. Your body felt light, and your mind was hazily peaceful.

“How do you feel?” he asked finally, kissing your forehead.

“Perfect,” you sighed.

You felt his laugh in his chest. “Oh?”

“Mhm. Even thinking about tomorrow isn’t worrying me one bit right now.”

“That’s good,” he said softly, moving his hand to your hair now and using his fingertips to massage your scalp a little. You sighed again in contentment at his fingers lightly scratching your skin. “You’re not in pain?” he pressed.

“Not really,” you said. “Though I think I’ll be…sore. Eventually.”

His other arm tightened. “I’m going to miss you so much over break.”

“Me too.” And then you peeked up, lying your chin on your chest to look at his face, narrowing your eyes in mock suspicion. “Are you _sure_ that you haven’t done that before? It felt like you knew what you were doing.”

He chuckled. “Quite sure. And I would have thought my inexperience was obvious. I distinctly remember needing two tries due to the fact that I only lasted about five seconds on the first one.”

“Well, the second was better,” you relented. “But the first did serve the purpose of making me feel quite powerful, so there’s that.” He laughed again, hugging you closer, and you gave him a shy but brilliant smile, and then you yawned. “I think I want to have a shower,” you told him.

“Alone?” His eyes were glittering at you, and then he sighed dramatically. “I do only have the rest of the night to commit you perfectly to my memory, you know, so I can offset the long, lonely weeks of the holiday…”

You hit his chest, giggling. “Come on, then,” you said, tugging lightly on his arm.

* * *

The ride home on the Hogwarts Express the next day was agonizing.

Where last night it had been easy to be relaxed (in fact, it had been impossible _not_ to be, afterward) and to forget your woes and worries about returning home over Christmas, the new day brought with it those feelings of dread again.

Draco kept throwing you concerned glances, which wasn’t helping, exactly, but you knew that he was just as anxious about your upcoming stint at home as you were. Your friends all seemed to be in good moods, keeping things light and casual in the compartment, talking and laughing and playing games, though you also detected each of them throwing you a sidelong glance every once in a while.

When you got to King’s Cross station, Draco briefly held you back in the compartment, after everyone else gave you hugs and said goodbye.

“Write me as soon as possible,” he said, his silver eyes more anxious than you had seen them in a long time.

“Of course I will,” you said, grasping his hands, and then he kissed you.

He kissed you much harder and more intensely than he probably would have on the platform, out where others could see, and he gave you a small smile afterward. “I’ll see you on Christmas Eve,” he said firmly. “For the party.”

“Right,” you said, nodding.

It almost seemed, for a moment, that he wanted to say something else, but then with a look on his face like resignation he nodded as well. Both of you picked up your trunks, he laced his fingers in yours, and then you were moving along the train aisle, your heart pounding with fear.

As soon as you saw your father’s face on the platform, you knew that all of your worries had not been unwarranted.

He was attempting to hide it, here in public, but he was angry. Very angry. Quite possibly the angriest he had ever been. Looking at you even made a muscle in his jaw twitch, and the glare that he turned on Draco after was vicious.

“Er,” began Draco, very awkwardly, throwing you a hesitant look, but before he could properly wish you a goodbye your father stepped forward and snatched your trunk from your fingers, and then grasped your upper arm so firmly that it hurt. The Malfoys were sweeping over, too, to come and greet Draco, but your father didn’t even glance at them.

“Hurry up,” he said, gruffly pulling you along, and you threw one last look at Draco over your shoulder as you trotted beside him, trying to keep up with your father’s quick, furious pace. Draco’s face was laced with concern and anger, and you saw him actually take a few steps forward before Theo appeared at his side and clutched his shoulder, murmuring something in Draco’s ear.

Miserably, you waved. Before long you were through Platform 9 ¾ and outside the station, at the designated Apparation point. Your father still hadn’t said anything, and you were afraid to speak. The rage that was radiating off him was palpable, something that you could almost taste in the air.

When you appeared before the front door of your home, gasping at the effect of Side-Along Apparation, his iron grasp on your arm returned, and he yanked you forward again, harder this time.

“Father - ” You began, but he gave you a look that quailed you from speaking any further words.

“Be quiet,” he said, very dangerously and leading you up to your room.

He thrust you forward into the room so that you stumbled a little; when you turned to face him, he was breathing unnaturally fast in his fury. “You’ll stay here until the party,” he said. “No owls, no leaving, no nothing.” You opened your mouth to complain, heart thudding, but he spoke before you could. “Save your breath. You’re stuck in here for the next week. You should feel lucky, Y/N.”

And then, suddenly, he smiled a very horrible smile.

“Oh yes…even after your scandals and problems, Prince Frederik has agreed to marry you.” He paused, clearly relishing in the look of slowly dawning confusion that was creeping onto your face. “You see, on Christmas Eve we won’t just be celebrating the holiday; we’ll also be having a little engagement party.” He grinned again, eyes glinting, as the disbelief on your face slowly morphed into horror. “What, you didn’t actually think anyone’s decision but mine – much less a fake engagement – actually mattered? Of course not, you idiot girl.”

He began to back up to the door. “No, no more games from you,” he continued softly. “You’re officially engaged now, and you’ll have plenty of time up here to think about behaving when you meet your real fiance.”

And, laughing, he loudly slammed the bedroom door, leaving you standing there stiffly, completely frozen in terror and shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: language, Pansy being Pansy, awkward attempts at seduction that include lingerie, sexual scenes and themes, realism about teenage boy's first time abilities, and one gigantic terrible parent alert


	14. The Prince

An entire week alone.

No social contact except for the three times a day your mother brought you food, though she refused to speak with you or answer your questions.

Unable to contact your friends, the only thing you could do to pass the days was read books from the limited selection in your room. 

Most of the time, however, you stared out the window, or blankly at the wall, fretting about your future.

After five days alone, you feared you wouldn’t make it further. The loneliness and isolation was stifling, unbearable, and uncontrollable sobbing or struggling with panicked breathing began to plague your waking hours. 

Worst of all was the lack of sleep; you tried to sleep _more_ , because there wasn’t much else to do, but that, unfortunately, didn’t work out.

That was why, on the 7th and final day, when the door to your bedroom opened in the late afternoon and your mother entered brandishing a dress at you, you almost wanted to cry again just from the relief that she was here, despite the fact that she was a terrible source of company. The dress she was holding was very formal: rose-colored and made of satin.

“This will be your attire for the evening,” she said briskly. “Now sit. I need to put some makeup on you. Make sure that you look acceptable, at least.”

You were less used to her disparaging comments than usual after your months at Hogwarts. Or maybe it had been all the isolation. Either way, it affected you more tonight, and you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

Your mother, who was holding eye shadow, gazed at you with scorn. “Don’t blubber, it isn’t becoming,” she scolded. “And it will ruin your makeup, so control yourself.“ She appraised you for a moment. “We need you in your prime presentation, do we not?”

You bit back the urge to let a very sarcastic reply tumble over your lips; instead, you merely asked dully, “Are you going to actually tell me more about the evening, or will I be surprised?”

Your mother pulled back very suddenly to look you very fiercely in the eye. “In case you and your little friends are getting more ideas about staging fake relationships - ”

“It’s real,” you cut in, but she talked over you, not listening to a word.

“ - don’t even bother. This prince and his parents have already formally agreed to your hand based on photos alone.” She sniffed. “Of course, I picked ones that gave you much needed enhancement. But rest assured that we won’t make the mistake of finalizing things in front of others again.”

Any hopes you had been fostering about the prince agreeing to leave you alone once you spoke to him were destroyed, and your shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Sit up and hold still.” She rather viciously put more powder on your face. “Rita will come report on your _real_ engagement, and all will finally be well.”

“ _Well_?” Your eyes flew open in disbelief. “For who, exactly? Mother…” You looked at her pleadingly; hoping there was some small part of her that wanted you to be happy and not miserable. “Mother, please. It started off fake, with Draco, to get me out of marriage. But it - it _changed_. It’s real. It’s been real for ages. Please don’t do this. I love him, Mother.”

She rolled her eyes and brandished the makeup brush, saying harshly, “Oh, don’t try that, you ridiculous girl…”

“I’m telling the truth,” you answered, even more harshly, making your mother take pause in clear surprise. “I love Draco. Even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t want to marry someone else. But I really do. Just let me be. Let _us_ be. _Please_.”

For a split second - so quick that it may have been imagined - you saw your mother’s eyes flicker with something. Sadness, maybe. Or regret. And then they iced over, and she made a _tsking_ sound between her teeth before resuming the makeup regimen. “Close your eyes, Y/N,” she ordered, and all you could do was stiffly obey, feeling your hopes crumble even further. “We’re going to meet the prince and his family up here, in the corridor, before going down to the guests and the press together. Do well in your press interviews and your punishments for your misdeeds this year will be forgotten. Understood?”

"Yes,” you said flatly, hating her.

It took a long time before you were deemed presentable by your mother, and examining your reflection in the mirror you were struck again by just how much your mother had attempted to age you with makeup. 

It was then that your father poked his head in the room. “They’ve arrived.”

“Excellent. We’ve just finished,” said your mother, gesturing over you.

Your father appraised you coldly, and then he stepped inside and closed the door, advancing on you in a manner so threatening that you took a step back, feeling nervous. “Now you listen well,” he said in a very low, dangerous voice. “Your mother thought it best that we don’t rescind our invitations to the Malfoys because that may add fuel to the scandal fire.” He paused, arching an eyebrow at you. “But you will not do anything with him that suggests that you are not fully and wholly dedicated to Prince Frederik.”

“I don’t even _know_ Prince Frederik,” you snapped, furious.

Your father’s eyes flashed, but then he smoothed his expression quickly. “No more of your games, Y/N,” he said softly. “If you continue this fake relationship as an act of public rebellion –”

“It’s real,” you repeated, dully, but he, like your mother, completely ignored you.

“ – we will withdraw you from Hogwarts for your final year, and you _will_ stay in this room until we marry you off.”

You only had time to gape at him and then swallow, hard, before he gave you one final sneer and then nodded resolutely. “Let’s go, then. The prince and his family are waiting for us, and the other guests are arriving. You will greet the prince with grace, and then make your entrance to the ballroom with him. Don’t trip. And get that ridiculous look off your face and smile.”

And with that, he opened the bedroom door, waiting impatiently for you to cross the room.

It was a mark of how bad things had gotten that you briefly considered sprinting for the window and throwing yourself through the glass to escape. You would survive, right? Your magic would help you with the fall, wouldn’t it?

Still, you wouldn’t be able to solve any problems from St. Mungo’s.

And so very slowly, dragging your feet and feeling as if your entire body was made of lead, you walked over and followed your father out of the room, with your mother trailing after you, a gracious, fake smile already on her lips.

“Stand up straight,” she hissed into your ear, and you immediately stiffened and tried to correct the line of your spine.

The prince was waiting at the end of the corridor with two people that you could only assume were his parents. As you approached, your eyes darted cautiously over him – you aggressively and rebelliously did not think of him as your _fiance_ – taking in his appearance. He was smiling pleasantly, and so were his parents, which was at least already better than the Van Adels.

His posture was immaculate, his chin was high, and he was…handsome. He was also, you noted, at least two years older than you.

“Oh, she’s even lovelier in person!” exclaimed the woman behind the prince, presumably his mother, in slightly accented English. It seemed like a genuine compliment, so you only forced a polite smile at her.

“Indeed,” said prince Frederik. His voice was deep and silky and his smile was perfectly dazzling as he stepped forward to take your hand and kiss it. “It is an absolute pleasure to be betrothed to you, Y/N,” he said sincerely, and without even the slightest trace of an accent.

_Oh, the press is going to love him_ , you thought bitterly.

You couldn’t quite summon the energy to lie and return the sentiment, so you just said, “Thank you,” in a voice that you hoped was normal.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said the prince’s father to you warmly.

“For me as well,” you replied, and curtsied, feeling completely and totally idiotic.

“Shall we descend?” asked the prince. “I don’t want to waste another moment not sharing this joyous occasion with the guests.” He held out his arm so that you could hook yours around it.

You were sorely tempted to slap it away, but instead you slowly walked up, took a steadying breath and a small smile, and gave him your arm.

“Don’t be nervous, my dear,” he said kindly, and then he was leading you down the corridor, to what you assumed was the ballroom and the gigantic staircase leading into it so that you could both make a grand, dramatic entrance.

The very first thing you saw when turning the corner was…nothing, technically.

Cameras had begun flashing, the bright white lights photographing you hooked on the arm of this stranger and blinding you for at least full five seconds. 

When you finally regained your vision, you tried to smile as best you could, peeking up at your walking partner. Prince Frederik was very good at smiling pleasantly for the cameras; even better than Draco, who you were desperately searching for in the crowd as you moved down the stairs, still blinking rather dazedly at the still flashing cameras and only vaguely hearing the announcement of your engagement and the applause that followed. It was a sensory overload, being suddenly thrown into all of this after a week of near solitude, and mostly you had to focus on trying not to fall.

You were always thankful that Draco had platinum blonde hair when it came to crowds, and that he was tall, for it always made him much easier to spot. You caught sight of him just as you were nearing the bottom of the staircase.

The look on his face was difficult to define: clearly he was trying to remain calm, but even from here you could see the spark of defiance and anger in his eyes, and his lips were pursed just a little too tightly to be neutral.

The most you could do was throw him a very helpless sort of look before you were swept off to the left, and immediately descended upon by some very eager reporters, firing questions to you and your families about the engagement.

Prince Frederik, much like Draco, was handling much of the talking, which was good, because you thought if you opened your mouth you might be sick. There were too many eyeballs, and without Draco or your friends it was nearly unbearable, but you smiled as prettily as you could all the same.

Prince Frederik pulled you off to the drinks table after a while, handing you some pumpkin juice with a kind smile. And then he leaned forward and murmured into your ear, “Keep smiling, Y/N. They’ll assume I’m whispering something fond into your ear. And then I think it’s best if I kiss you. I won’t make it long.”

“I - I don’t - ” You stuttered, both uncertain how and unwilling to explain your reluctance to kiss him.

“On the cheek, perhaps?”

He had picked up on your discomfort, and his voice was still very kind. You relaxed just a little; at least he wouldn’t be entirely pushy or mean.

“Cheek is fine,” you breathed back, and then pulled back and gave him a radiant smile for the cameras and the watching crowd, before he leaned forward and very briefly and lightly touched his lips to your cheek, squeezing your hand.

You heard the crowd sigh and make sounds of satisfaction.

It was incredible to you how quickly they could transfer you onto the arm of another. You were quite certain that at least half of these people had probably avidly followed your relationship with Draco; and yet here they were now, just as excitable about your sudden switch to another.

Automatically, your eyes flew back over to the spot where Draco had been standing with your friends; Blaise had his hand on Draco’s shoulder, and Daphne was standing closely to his side, but you didn’t see…

“Hey,” said Pansy, flouncing up to you with Theo strolling along beside her. They were sure to throw Prince Frederik their looks of deepest disgust, not even attempting to be subtle, and then Pansy took your arm. “Would you so kind as to allow your fiance to have a drink with her friends?” she asked him, her voice both sickly sweet and positively threatening. Her dark eyes glittered at him.

The prince blinked, and then smiled brilliantly. “Of course. Just save a dance for me later, darling.” He kissed your cheek again, and Pansy scowled at him before pulling you away, with Theo on your other side and acting almost as a bodyguard.

Upon seeing you approaching the group, Draco straightened up and, as soon as you were close enough, started to reach out his hands to touch you. 

It almost killed you to take a few pointed steps back, biting your lip apologetically. Glancing around to ensure that no one was paying much attention, you just shook your head at him.

His face flooded with hurt before he could contain it and he nodded stiffly, raking a hand through his hair, and you wanted to kick yourself. “I was told that if I show any signs of a relationship, I would be taken out of Hogwarts next year and married off sooner. Have to be careful,” you explained in a very low voice to Pansy on your right, whose eyes flashed again before she walked over to Draco’s side to deliver the message quietly, so that no one standing nearby could hear.

His face twisted, but then he pulled it back to neutral again, straightening up and at the same time straightening out his tie, his eyes still locked on yours.

“Well, this is cheerful,” said Blaise finally, moving over to squeeze your hand.

You nodded, feeling the sudden urge to cry. You really just wanted to run to Draco and leap into his arms, but that, of course, was impossible. As it was, all you could do was gaze at him, watching as he got that expression on his face that meant his brain was whirring, and then he leaned over to Daphne and began murmuring something in her ear, his lips moving quickly.

Daphne nodded, and strolled over to you, her eyes flicking about the room. And then she smiled widely for cameras, waited a few moments, and then passed on the message to you. “Eleven o’clock,” she whispered. “The adults will be drunker and less likely to notice. Draco is going to slip out, and you could follow him a few minutes after. Meet him at the loo. The second one in that corridor, not the one for guests.” You nodded slowly, heart expanding a little with hope and your eyes flitting to Draco’s. He gave you a small smile, though his face was still strained with concerned lines and his eyes were stormy.

“Y/N!”

You jumped at the sound of your mother’s voice behind you, hoping your face didn’t look too guilty and praying feverishly that she had not just caught that little exchange of secrets or heard what Daphne had said to you, especially when you saw that she looked rather severe.

“Have you seen Rita?” she pressed, eyebrows knitting together. “She’s already supposed to be here to interview you and Frederik and take photos. She’s almost an hour late.” She looked desperately around the room again. “Where _is_ she?”

_Ah, another interview with Skeeter. This night keeps getting better and better._

“I never try and see Skeeter if I can help it, Mother,” you said, and you heard the hastily contained laughs turned into coughs from your friends.

Your mother’s eyes narrowed. “Bitch,” was all she said, turning immediately and stalking off, and you breathed a sigh of relief, though the faces of everyone else in the group ranged from horrified to indignant at your mother’s casual insult.

“As if I would know where Skeeter is,” you muttered irritably.

“Of course not,” said Pansy, suddenly grinning rather savagely. “Because the only person in this room that knows the whereabouts of Rita Skeeter is me.”

There was a brief silence as everyone processed what she had said, eyes getting wide, and it was Daphne that spoke first. “ _What_?” she asked in a whisper shout, gazing at her girlfriend in both awe and something like wariness.

“Has it finally happened?” asked Draco. “Have you murdered someone, Pans?”

Pansy just rolled her eyes, snickering, and began rummaging around in a little handbag that you just realized was strung over her shoulder.

“Er…why do you have that with you?” you asked tentatively.

“Because there’s something very valuable in here,” said Pansy briskly, still rustling around and not looking up at the others.

Bemused, you all shared glances. “What might that be?” Theo pressed.

With a look of vicious triumph on her face, she pulled out an ordinary jar. “This.”

Peering at it very closely, you both saw that there was a beetle inside, but nothing else of significance. Briefly wondering if Pansy was somehow already incredibly drunk, you carefully scanned her features. She looked perfectly sober.

“A beetle,” said Blaise dryly, raising an eyebrow at her. “Very valuable.”

“Not just a beetle, Blaise,” said Pansy, smiling devilishly. “I’ve _got_ her.” Her dark eyes blazed again with success, her cheeks flushed. “This, everyone, is Rita fucking Skeeter. She’s an Animagus.”

It took you all another moment to register what she had said.

“ _What_?” you finally exclaimed, eyes moving back to squint at the beetle. Pansy moved forward and showed it to you; now that you were looking closer, however, you saw that the markings around the beetle’s eyes were exactly like Rita Skeeter’s glasses. “Oh my _god_ …”

“An unregistered one, to be precise,” said Pansy happily, as everyone stared at her in shock. “Remember that thing you said about wishing we could blackmail her, Y/N?” She held up the jar a little higher, grinning widely. “Well, I’ve made your wish come true. I’ve made sure that Rita Skeeter can never again write about our personal lives.”

Suddenly, Blaise began to laugh loudly, causing a few people to look over at your group. Hurriedly, Pansy stuffed the jar back into her bag and smiled nonchalantly.

“When did you – _how_?” you sputtered out, completely dazed.

“Quite easy, really, once I enlisted Granger’s help,” she said lightly. “We found her, cornered her, dueled her, forced her to take an Unbreakable Vow with conditions to our liking – which includes staying out of _all_ of our personal business, by the way – and then trapped her in the jar.”

“Merlin,” Daphne began, eyes wide. “Pansy, that’s…”

“Insane,” finished Draco.

“And amazing,” said Pansy, rolling her eyes. “I feel I am not getting the proper compliments for my accomplishments here.”

“Don’t you and Hermione Granger famously not get along?” asked Theo, scrunching his face in blatant confusion.

“Oh yes,” said Pansy airily. “But our mutual hatred of Rita Skeeter transcended our dislike of each other. I found her to be an unlikely but very powerful ally.”

“Hold on,” said Draco suddenly, frowning. “When did you do this?” And then his eyes flooded with comprehension. “Wait – was it a couple of days ago, when you claimed you went to Diagon Alley? And came back looking very disheveled, but wouldn’t tell me what had happened?”

“That’s the one,” said Pansy cheerfully.

“Fuck, you’re terrifying,” said Blaise, though his voice was tinged in admiration.

“Yes, Pansy, this has been a very strong reminder to never find ourselves on your bad side,” you told her, though you were also full of awe. And, as much as you hated Skeeter, a little bit of concern. “Although please tell me you are not planning on keeping her trapped in there forever.”  
  
“Oh, no,” said Pansy, laughing. “Unless she feels like dropping dead, we’ll be safe from her nosing, so I’ll let her out. I just wanted to show you my victory. Thought it might lift your spirits, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you told her, grinning and indeed feeling marginally better. “Really.”

Pansy blew you a kiss and snatched a plate of something off a passing server, and Prince Frederik appeared over your shoulder. The atmosphere of the group changed in an almost comical drop in mood; and for the first time, you thought you saw the prince waver. His hand, which was reaching for your shoulder, made a minuscule vibrating movement, a split second’s betrayal of his nerves.

“Shall we dance?” was all he said, very pleasantly.

You sighed. “Sure.” You threw Draco one last look as Frederik hooked your arm and led you away, and he looked positively murderous.

The next three hours were incredibly difficult to get through.

It felt like your eyes inched to the gigantic, ornate grandfather clock in the ballroom every two minutes. Time was dragging, and people were always staring, and Prince Frederik led you through one dance, and then another, and then another, and reporters came to speak with you, and take pictures, and periodically through it all you were only able to get glimpses of Draco and the displeasure on his face…

When eleven o’clock finally came, you watched more carefully for the blonde head, and sure enough, you saw it eventually slipping toward the exit.

You dutifully waited the incredibly long and painful five minutes, glanced at your parents (who were laughing drunkenly with Theodore Nott Sr. and Esmeralda Zabini far across the room), and decided it was now or never.

“I need to use the loo,” you told the prince quickly and quietly, nodding once at the people watching and giving them a brief smile before slipping through the crowd. People tried to touch your arm, talk to you, but you only kept the fake smile plastered on your face and dodged them, hurried out of the crowd, out into the parlor and finally into the corridor, where there were no party guests.

Tears filled your eyes as soon as you were alone, and you took a few deep breaths to steady yourself. Being among all those people as well as the center of attention had left you feeling claustrophobic. You were exhausted.

_Draco. I need to find Draco_ , you thought, hands shaking a little.

How long could you avoid your official fiance’s arm without the crowd - or worse, your parents - noticing?

You pressed on, going further down the corridor than any guests would be expected to go, and when you saw him there you broke into a run despite the horrific high heels that you had on. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes brighter than usual, and he caught you easily when you flung yourself on him. Crying would be a terrifically bad idea because someone was sure to notice your puffy eyes, so you contented yourself with gripping him like your life depended on it.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment; he just held you tightly back before muttering, “Come on,” taking your hand, and pulling you into the bathroom.

As soon as the door closed and he had turned the lock, he whipped around, stepped forward, tilted his head down to yours, and kissed you.

“I missed you,” you mumbled against his lips after a long moment.

“Y/N,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’ve been frantic. When we all heard nothing from you…” He swallowed hard, holding your face tighter. “And it seems I was right to be. You’re fucking - you’re _engaged_.” He said it with the air of someone that was somehow both in denial and full of rage.

“Draco,” you said, gripping his shirt and looking desperately into his eyes. “They put me in my room and wouldn’t let me out, or have owls…” You shuddered at the memory of the week of solitude. Just that small amount of time with almost no human contact had been enough to make you question whether or not you were still sane, and then to be thrown into this sea of high society vultures…

“Tonight is your first time back out?” He took your hands in his, and his voice was rough, and blatant anger was glinting in his eyes.

“Yes,” you said miserably.

You felt a tremor vibrate in Draco’s hands, and he closed his eyes for a moment. “I’ve been thinking of how to get you out of it,” he mumbled.

“Me too,” you replied. “So far I don’t have anything.”

“Neither do I,” he admitted, but then his eyes flashed. “But we _will_ get you out of the wedding. We’ll all plan something. We’ll disturb the peace and smuggle you out. Something.” He frowned suddenly. “How is he? Is he at least respectful to you?” His eyes flashed again. “To be perfectly frank, part of me really wants to break every single one of his fingers.”

“He seems polite so far,” you told him, patting his chest. “And he’s at least understanding that I don’t want to do certain things.”

“Like what?” Draco growled. “What was he asking you to do?”

You hesitated. “He was suggesting…back in there with all the people, that he should maybe kiss me. He said it wouldn’t have to be much, but - ”

“Fucker,” snapped Draco. “Was that when he kissed your cheek?”

“Yes,” you said, blinking at his harshness. “Because he could tell I was uncomfortable with more. I really don’t think this is his fault, Draco.”

“ _What_? What the hell do you _mean_ , not his fault?” His eyes had grown even brighter, and he threw you a sour look before he began to pace a little around the bathroom. “Y/N, he’s older. O _f_ _age_. He could say no to all of this. He’s willing to put you into a situation that you didn’t agree to, isn’t he?”

You hadn’t thought of that before, and you froze, eyes wide. “I haven’t even really talked to him yet,” was all you said desperately, hoping fervently for the best case scenario. “Maybe he thinks I agreed?”

“Why are you defending him?” Draco snapped, turning to face you again with narrowed eyes and clenched fists.

“I’m just trying to wait until we know all the facts! What is your _problem_?”

But as you stood there, staring at each other, you saw the flash of something on Draco’s face; pain, perhaps, and a little bit of panic, too. And then you understood. You stepped forward and gently took his hand; his shoulders slumped. “You feel threatened,” you said softly, quite shocked at this realization. “You think I’ll fall for him if I have to be in a public relationship with him for a while, is that it?”

“It happened with me,” Draco muttered, giving you a bit of a sheepish look. The anger had already passed; he just seemed tired and ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh Draco, _no_ ,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “There’s no threat to you. I want _you_. Only you. I thought you knew that.” And then you frowned in thought, peering carefully at your feet. “But I know it’s…not so easy, sometimes.” You sighed and glanced back up into his face; he was watching you with a solemn expression. “I mean, I felt threatened. When Anna reappeared, I mean.”

His mouth suddenly twitched. “I tried to tell you that was ridiculous.”

You hit his chest with a grin, but then you reached up to cup his cheek. “I know it won’t be easy,” you told him softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, obviously. We’ll get through it,” he said seriously, turning his head to kiss the inside of your palm, holding your wrist before squeezing his eyes shut. “Things will be normal for us one day.” And then he opened his eyes and gave you a teasing sort of smile, flecked with just a hint of tiredness and resignation. “But until then, I suppose that you are so very important to me that I’m willing to be your dirty little secret…your _manstress_ , if you will…”

“Shut up,” you told him, laughing, but then touched his face again and gave him a look that was more serious. “You, Draco Malfoy, are not my side piece. You are my main and only piece.”

“I love you,” he said, and his voice was raw and rough, and then his lips were on yours, tinged with that same sense of desperation you felt. You knew that you had to go back out, that people would begin to ask where you were. But this was actually exhilarating in itself, and then there was the added, usual euphoria that accompanied his presence, and you were curling yourself around him tighter, tighter, not wanting to be separated, acutely aware that this would probably be your last alone time with him until a brief stint at the upcoming New Year’s party.

He was murmuring things to you as he kissed you too, either against your lips, or in your ear after moving his lips like fire across your neck. 

Things like: _I missed you, Y/N_ , and _I love you_ , _Y/N_ , and _I wish I could take you away and take that dress off, my love_ -

Well, okay, so something could certainly be said for this sneaking around thing.

You were practically clawing at his back and chest, gasping a little at his words, or when he lightly bit your bottom lip, but then, regretfully…

“We should go,” he murmured, his lips on yours getting briefer and briefer until they finally stopped completely, and you felt him sigh. “I won’t see you again after tonight until New Year’s, will I? Merlin, Y/N, will you be all alone again?”

“I think so,” you said hesitantly.

He gripped your face. “The rest of us will work on a plan to fix this. I promise you.”

“I know,” you sighed, drinking in his features in such close proximity for the last time in a while.

He kissed you one last time before reaching over for the door. “I hate this,” he told you, and then he was pulling you out of the bathroom. 

You were just about to separate and head back in the direction of the party alone, with a staggered reappearance, when you heard raised, heated voices coming from the parlor, heading toward the loo. With a panicked glance, Draco tilted his head the other way, and once more you had no choice but to retreat further into the shadowy corridor, hoping the others wouldn’t come this far.

They didn’t: they halted outside the guest bathroom to continue their argument, which you and Draco, hovering around the corner, could hear clear as day.

“…utterly disrespectful,” came Narcissa’s furious voice. “Our children - ”

“Were faking their relationship, and I think you were well aware of that from the beginning.” This was your mother’s voice, and she sounded just as angry.

“Draco only ever told me about his feelings for Y/N,” said Narcissa. “I had no reason to believe they were illegitimate. And I’m telling you that it is _true_ ; he’s been miserable at home, as you’ve seemingly barred her from receiving owls. He begged Lucius and I to make an unsolicited visit, which I strongly considered.”

“It is none of your business how I raise my daughter, Narcissa,” snapped your mother very defensively. “That boy of yours has helped her nearly destroy her reputation with their lies. Do you know how difficult it was to negotiate her engagement to Frederik?”

“It was _unnecessary_!” spat Narcissa. “She and Draco - ”

“Will be respectful and keep their distance,” said your mother coldly.

There was a pause, and when Narcissa spoke her voice was lower, but more dangerous. “My son is not to be tossed aside, and certainly not because your desires are trumping your daughter’s.”

“Don’t threaten me in my own home, Narcissa,” warned your mother.

There were footsteps clicking away, sounding like someone had stormed off.

Not so long after you heard a sigh, which you recognized as your mother’s, and then she also walked off, her footsteps disappearing down the corridor as she, too, returned to the party. “Shit,” you whispered, looking up at Draco.

“Yeah. Come on,” he sighed, taking your hand almost thoughtlessly. “Let’s go.”

You were almost to the parlor and yet again about to separate to return to the ballroom when none other Prince Frederik came striding along.

_Shit. Shit shit shit._

You saw his eyes flick down to your intertwined fingers, and you furiously cursed yourself for not being more careful; you had forgotten you were holding hands. Slowly, you began to pull your hand from Draco’s. 

For a moment, Draco’s grip tightened; an automatic reaction. But then he regretfully relinquished your hand and turned his gaze onto the prince, who was standing there and silently watching both of you, an unfathomable look on his face.

“You must be Draco Malfoy,” was all he said, very slowly.

“Yes,” replied Draco, lifting his chin a little in defiance.

The prince’s gaze flicked between the two of you again. “Interesting,” was all he said, stepping smartly around the pair of you to continue on.

“Shit,” you said again, fretting. “I should go, I should hurry back into the…”

But you didn’t finish your sentence. This time it was Narcissa and Lucius that came hurrying out into the parlor, with Lucius looking quite calm but Narcissa looking entirely frazzled, which was new on her. Even worse was that you had a very good idea of why she looked that way. “We’ve just been looking all over for you,” she said to Draco, a little irritably. “Come, Draco. We’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” He glanced at you. “But Mother - ”

“No arguments, Draco, I’m not in the mood,” she snapped. “Our presence is clearly not welcome here tonight. Our invitation was an insult.”

Even though she was mildly terrifying when she was angry, you had to ask as you watched Draco shuffle over to his mother with a frown. “N-Narcissa, is there a New Year’s Party this year? Will you be going?” You locked worried eyes with Draco; you couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing him again before the holidays were over, even if it was only briefly, and your parents hadn’t informed you of the holiday plans. What if the party was here and your mother didn’t invite the Malfoys?

Narcissa’s face softened as she looked at you. “Yes,” she said gently. “It is at the Greengrass’s this year, and we’ll be there.”

You exhaled a sigh of relief. 

But you stiffened again as you felt an arm come tentatively around your waist. You only had to catch a glimpse of Draco’s furious glare to know who it was before you even looked: Prince Frederik had returned on his way back to the party and was currently standing beside you. And he was smiling pleasantly, as always.

“It was lovely to make your acquaintance tonight,” he said to the Malfoys courteously. “We’re both sorry to see you leave so early.”

You bristled at the use of the collective _we_ ; as if he knew your thoughts and desires and he spoke for you.

Draco’s face was now contorted with blatant, poorly contained rage. Narcissa’s eyes also briefly clouded with anger as she looked at him, but she quickly composed herself to her usual aristocratic and pleasant expression. “Quite, Prince Frederik,” was all she said airily, and then she placed her hand on Draco’s shoulder to lead him away.

The last thing you saw was the irritation in Draco’s eyes when he glanced over his shoulder between you and Frederik again; all you could do was stand there frozen with the prince, trying your best to give Draco a reassuring smile as he left.

It had not been how you had envisioned parting from him that night, and it made you want to cry. And now you couldn’t even send him an owl. You had to wait almost a week until you saw him again, and even then, you had to keep your distance throughout most of the next party, too.

“Don’t just come and put an arm around me,” you snapped at Frederik, pushing him away and turning to fold your arms at him and give him your best glare.

He blinked. “So sorry,” he said, excessively polite as always. “I was quite nervous, and uncertain how to act.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, with a little huff, glaring at your feet now.

There was a bit of a pause.

“I think we have a lot to talk about,” he said finally, very slowly and carefully. “Shall we bundle up and have a walk outside?”

You just stared up at him rather blankly. You were unable to really get a read on him; he didn’t seem angry about seeing you holding hands with Draco earlier, and he had not once been unkind, at least so far. His motives were wildly unclear to you, and this was distinctly uncomfortable.

“Okay,” you agreed slowly. “I suppose we could do a round in the gardens.”

“Wonderful,” he said, holding out his arm. “Let’s get our coats.”

* * *

“So,” began Prince Frederick lightly, as you both stepped outside into the brisk winter air. “Why don’t we start with you telling me the truth about Draco Malfoy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: language, sexual themes, terrible parent alert again


	15. The Curtain Closes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: language, sexual scenes, terrible parent alert for a third time
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone reading along. I hope you enjoy the conclusion :)

The prince’s voice didn’t sound angry or irritated; merely curious.

You glanced tentatively up at him once before deciding to go ahead and get out with it. It seemed like he was the sort of person that wanted direct conversation.

“We’re in love,” you said honestly.

He peeked at you out of the corner of his eye. “I see. So the claims that the press made about the relationship being fake…?”

“Partially true,” you told him. “It started out that way, but we…ended up catching real feelings.”

“How charming,” he replied, very politely. “And the engagement?”

“ _That_ was completely fake.”

“Ah,” he mused, frowning thoughtfully. You walked along for a few moments in silence, with you giving him nervous little peeks every few seconds.

“You seem to be taking this well.”

“Well, I suppose it’s not entirely surprising,“ he said slowly. "I admit, I also believed that it was fake when I saw the article—but I don’t live here and had never seen the two of you interact before tonight. And besides, the press hardly ever has the full story, do they? I should have known.” He gave you another small smile. “No wonder he reacted to me with such hostility.”

“I’ll be loyal to him,” you warned him. “I don’t know what your motives are for agreeing to get engaged to me, but I’m not going to kiss you or—or anything like that. Not even for the cameras. They can speculate about our lack of affection all they want. I don’t care. I won’t hurt him like that.”

Frederik’s smile grew wider and more genuine. “Oh, that won’t be a problem,” he said sincerely. “I’m gay, you see.”

You blinked in surprise. “You’re…”

“Gay, yes,” he said, looking very amused and pulling you to sit down beside him on one of the many benches sprinkled around the gardens. It was freezing cold, and you could feel it seeping through the fabric of your thick coat, but you hardly noted it. You just gaped up at him, still quite shocked at this revelation, and he just laughed at the look on your face. “Very gay, in fact.”

“Then why…I don’t understand…”

“Well…” He hesitated. “From the information my parents gave me, I was able to guess that you didn’t really want to be married off, especially considering your age; and mostly because they only talked about your parents’ role in all this, and not yours.” He paused, tilting his head at you sympathetically. “My suspicions were confirmed when the fake dating article came out. It sounded to me like the plan of a desperate person. So I decided to accept in order to meet you and make you an offer.”

“Which is?” you asked slowly, watching him carefully.

He smiled nervously. “We could marry, but have our own lives. You, of course, would provide a cover for me just by being my wife. Otherwise you would have complete and total freedom to live however you please. Our parents would be happy, we wouldn’t have to deal with their interference, and we can keep our inheritances.” He smiled briefly again. “Also, I’m sure we could become very good friends.”

You just stared at him for a moment. “But I would have to do all that in secret,” you said finally, frowning as you mulled it over. “Wouldn’t I? I couldn’t publicly be with Draco.”

“Well no,” the prince admitted.

“And if I say no?” Your heart was beating rapidly. “Will you honor that and not marry me? And why couldn’t you have asked me all this _before_ getting fake engaged?”

“For one thing, I wasn’t really allowed to meet you,” Frederik said, giving you an apologetic look. “I just hedged a bet that this might be something you wanted, and hoped we could find something mutually beneficial. But if that’s not something that helps you, I, of course, would not force your hand.” He paused. “Would your parents find another suitor for you, then?”

“Yes,” you said wretchedly, feeling like you just had a blow to the stomach.

It would never stop, would it? If this fell through, not only would they be furious, but they would just find someone else, and then another, and then another…

Prince Frederik was watching you very carefully. “I suppose I could…stay engaged to you. Until you’re of age. If that helps.”

You felt your eyes fill with surprised and touched tears. “R-really?”

He nodded decisively. “Yes. Of course.”

You resisted the urge to grab him and hug him from glee and gratitude.

Okay, so it wasn’t optimal, either, having to fake date someone _else_ for nine months while seeing Draco in secret. But at least it was only nine months, right? Not your whole life?

And what other choice did you have?

“You’re very kind to do that for me, Frederik.” You hesitated a moment. “But don’t you think you would be happier too? You know…living your life how you want without a cover?”

He looked suddenly very melancholy. “Oh, perhaps. But I’ve no idea how the information would be received. Sometimes this just feels easier.”

“Well, we would help and support you, if you ever needed it,” you offered. “My friends and I, I mean. Draco’s family took in my friend Pansy.”

“But you hardly know me,” he said, tilting his head in confusion.

“Yes, well, you’re helping me, aren’t you? So that kind of makes you one of us, and Slytherins take care of our own, Frederik.” You smiled at him.

He flashed you a very dazzling smile back. “Well I’m not quite sure what that last bit means, but that’s very kind of you, Y/N. I was certainly right about the part where we could become good friends, wasn’t I?”

“I think so, yes,” you agreed.

He took your hand and squeezed it. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” you replied slowly. “A little overwhelmed, I suppose. It feels like there’s a new big change every day lately, all of which have to do with my relationship status. And half of it isn’t real.” But then you smiled, letting out a breath. “I’m grateful to you, though. Glad to have met you. And so _relieved_.”

“That I’m not some arsehole who snatched an underage girl against her will?” He was looking at you very knowingly. “When I briefly met your group of friends, I wasn’t surprised that they treated me with such disdain. I thought that dark-haired girl was going to murder me with her fork.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you told him ruefully. “They’re all very protective, especially Pansy. I’ll set it straight.”

“That would be lovely,” he said. “And, if I may, I have one more favor to ask.”

“Yes?”

You watched, surprised and rather fascinated as a dull flush suddenly crept onto his cheeks. “Er—I wanted to inquire if your friend Theo is…single.”

You blinked. “ _Oh_. I actually have no idea, Frederik, sorry.”

“Ah,” he mused.

“I could find out?” you offered, giving him a hopeful smile.

“Thank you.” He squeezed your hand again, and then he laughed. He had a nice laugh; deep and pleasant and infectious, and warm relief spread through your chest all over again. “So. Unlikely partners in crime?”

You giggled along with him. “Unlikely partners in crime,” you agreed, nodding.

* * *

The wait in between had been hell, but on New Year’s Eve, things were better.

The Greengrasses, relaxed as they were, had extended the invitation for the young people to come over early and spend some time together before the formal arrival of the rest of the guests, and your parents were actually allowing you to go—under one condition. Prince Frederik had to attend as well (presumably, in their minds, to keep your behavior in line).

This, of course, was no longer the threat it had been on Christmas Eve, and so the only thing you had to worry about now was a potential source of tension between Prince Frederik and your friends, so you hoped you would have time to explain the situation before he arrived, particularly to Pansy.

He had yet to arrive—so far it was only you Daphne, Theo, and Blaise, and your eyes darted to the door far too often to check for Draco and Pansy’s arrival.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have some ulterior motive?” asked Blaise for the umpteenth time after you had hastily explained the agreement to them. He fixed you with a stern gaze, lounging across the room from you on the sofa.

“ _Yes_ ,” you emphasized stubbornly. “What would he get out of this?”

“A marriage? Your family wealth?”

“I don’t think he particularly _wanted_ a marriage. It was just a convenience thing. And he has plenty of wealth. More, probably.” You folded your arms.

The end of the discussion, however, was immediately cut off by the arrival of Prince Frederik himself, having been brought to the room from the front door by the family house elf. “Er…hello,” he said cautiously, smiling a little. His eyes lingered on Theo with great interest, and you stifled a grin.

“Hello,” you said immediately, standing up and throwing your friends a fierce look, which very clearly conveyed: _Behave yourselves._ “Frederik, have you already officially met everyone? That’s Daphne, Blaise, and Theo.”

They waved a hand when their name was called, and finally Blaise stood and walked forward to shake his hand. “So. The new fake boyfriend, eh?”

“Fake fiance, technically,” said Frederik, flashing you a nervous smile.

“It’s very kind of you to help out,” said Daphne kindly, giving him a reassuring smile, and the prince seemed to relax, though his posture still remained stiff to the point of utter perfection.

“I’m happy to help,” he said sincerely.

_He’s quite socially awkward, for a prince_ , you thought curiously, wondering suddenly if his excessive politeness and formal way of speaking was actually due to nerves.

But your pondering was interrupted by Pansy and Draco’s arrival. They stopped in the doorway at the sight of Prince Frederik, staring for a long moment, and then their eyes moved cautiously over the others in the room. Draco’s gaze stopped at you; his face was neutral. You knew now wasn’t the greatest time to be focusing on such things, but he looked _so_ good tonight. His dress robes were silver, and they hugged his shoulders and brought out his eyes. A stab of longing, almost physically painful, shot through you.

“Why is he here?” Pansy asked bluntly, gesturing to the prince.

“I hadn’t gotten to telling all of them yet,” you explained to Prince Frederik weakly, when he shot you a very alarmed look at Pansy’s reaction. “Er—this is Pansy. And you know Draco.”

“Er—yes,” said Frederik, giving them both a very hesitant smile, which neither returned.

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. You were just contemplating how to best explain the situation or whether you should let Frederik himself do it when Theo cleared his throat and spoke up. “I have something important I need to tell you, Y/N. And Draco. Alone.”

“Okay,” you said, following him with a distinct curiosity to the doorway.

You shot Daphne an imploring glance, knowing that she would understand to please explain to Pansy not to murder the prince. Once out in the hall Draco’s hand immediately slipped into yours and his eyes were on you again, appraising you, trying to judge your state after another week in your room. You met his gaze, trying to tell him without words that you were fine, everything was fine, better, even—

“You’ll never guess what happened,” said Theo, his dark eyes very intense.

Your dress strap had slipped over your shoulder from the bustle of hurrying out of the room, and you nudged it up again impatiently. Draco’s eyes followed the movement, and then they snapped to your face.

“How long until the guests arrive?” asked Draco suddenly, his gray gaze slowly moving again to focus on Theo.

“I think an hour or so. Listen, you two—”

“Tell us later,” said Draco quickly. “And cover for us, Theo.”

He held out his hand to you, gaze very intense, and you took it immediately. He began pulling you away, much more quickly than you expected; so much so that you had to trot to keep up with him.

“Oi! Draco, you twat, it’s important!“ Theo called, sounding furious.

“ _Later_ ,” Draco shot over his shoulder at him, his voice a determined sort of growl. You had only just turned the corner, out of sight from Theo, when he whirled to face you, pulled you against him, and hovered only inches from your mouth, his eyes darting about your face. “I need to know first,” he murmured urgently. “Are you all right?”

“Just fine,” you reassured him, unable to resist touching his face.

“Good,” he breathed, and then he was kissing you.

He was kissing you desperately and intently and you weren’t quite sure when, but somehow he had maneuvered you to a closet door slightly down the hall, he had kissed all of your exposed skin, and your dress strap was slipping down again. His hair was already messy from your grasp, and what was more, you had jumped up to wrap your legs around his waist, and he was holding you against the wall—and then he fumbled for the doorknob behind you and pushed the door open, pulling it shut behind him without breaking his mouth from yours.

“I know there’s a lot to talk about,” he mumbled against your mouth, in between fast and furious kisses. “But seeing as we’ve got to do this sneaking around thing…” He bowed his head to move his lips once across your clavicle, and you clutched at his shoulders. “Why not lean into the excitement a bit, right?” He pushed your other dress strap down and moved his lips across that side next, starting at the neck and moving all the way out to the shoulder.

“It’s working,” you barely managed to say. Your breathing wasn’t functioning properly.

“How long do you think Theo will cover for us? He seemed pissed,” he murmured, taking your hips and pinning you firmly against the wall.

“Doesn’t matter. Because—Draco, listen, there’s something I need to tell you,” you breathed back, and he pulled away from your mouth for the first time, his eyes hazy and confused.

“What?”

“This situation could be much worse,” you began, with a tentative smile.

“Really?” He grimaced. “Because my girlfriend is engaged to another man, and I have to watch her be paraded around on his handsome, royal arm,” he said grimly, scowling a little. “And _you_ have been locked in isolation in your room and engaged to a stranger, threatened with punishments and being pulled from school. Not optimal.”

“I know. But it’s not like we thought,” you told him softly. “Draco, Prince Frederik isn’t interested in me.”

Draco blinked. “He…what?”

“He wanted to marry me as a cover. He thought maybe I would want a cover too, and could just live my real life in private and keep my parents off my back. But…I told him I don’t want that, and he agreed to stay fake engaged to me to help with the marriage situation. And he knows all about you now. And…” You hesitated, suddenly giggling. “Is Theo straight? And single? Because the prince is definitely interested in _him_.”

“Theo?” asked Draco, looking rather dumbfounded. “No, and yes, but…”

He trailed off, still staring at you, clearly shocked and processing what you had just told him. His eyes had flooded with relief, but there was still a crease on his forehead. Still, he had to know, like you did, that this plan was currently the best (and only) way to ensure that you remained single until your parents couldn’t make any decisions for you.

“I know sneaking around for a while isn’t optimal,” you told him.

“Well, it’s better than the alternative,” said Draco. And then he paused, looking strained. “I’m…very grateful to him. For helping us. Helping you.”

“You should tell him that,” you suggested. “He’s really very nice.”

“Well then, I suppose we’ll just have to do with broom cupboard escapades or sneaking away for a while,” said Draco, and then his voice became a deep, lilting tease. You shivered when he leaned forward and very softly brushed his lips against yours. “And it also seems we have at least half an hour, don’t we? Fuck, I’ve missed you so much,” he breathed, before capturing your lips with his again.

He kissed you slowly and deeply, and then nestled into your neck before murmuring in your ear, “And I want to try something new.” A little thrill went through your body; so did an explosion of nerves. “Is that all right, love?” he continued, running his hands up your sides and making you tremble. You were able to nod, but just barely.

He was getting down to his knees, shifting the fabric of your dress up and moving his head underneath, kissing your kneecaps and then up your thighs, slowly up and up…

“If you don’t like it, just tell me to stop,” you heard him say softly from underneath the fabric, and his warm breath tickling your bare skin made your legs shake a little in anticipation.

You, needless to say, did not tell him to stop.

* * *

It was indeed roughly half an hour later that you rejoined your group of friends, and only another twenty minutes before guests began to show up for the party.

The rest of the time spent with the other young people before the arrivals had been pleasant. The ice had been officially broken once Draco had walked up and shaken Frederik’s hand, clapping him on the shoulder; and the rest was spent talking, or playing other games, and just generally spending pleasant time together.

You had shot Theo a quizzical look upon arriving again with Draco; but he had just rolled his eyes and shrugged, clearly not ready to try and tell you again whatever news he had needed to share earlier. When the first guest arrived—with the chiming of a doorbell that could be heard from the room you were in and over a sudden outbreak of laughter at something Theo had said—you kissed Draco once on the lips and moved to stand beside Frederik, hooking yourself on his arm.

“Let’s go out, I suppose,” he said.

“See you all in the ballroom soon,” you said, eyes lingering longingly on your boyfriend before you were swept out of the room by the prince.

“I understand that it’s hard,” said Frederik very, very quietly in your ear as you made your way to the ballroom. “But if you always look at Draco with puppy dog eyes when you’re with me, people _may_ begin to suspect something.” His eyes had a teasing sparkle in them.

“Point taken,” you said, smiling. “Sorry.”

“Just trying to help,” he said mildly.

“Let me return the favor,” you said. “Theo is available.”

Frederik’s head swiveled to look at you, eyes wide; you grinned at the look on his face, but by then you were almost at the ballroom, and it had to be all fake smiles and exclamations about your beauty and your engagement, as if people hadn’t blabbed about it enough at the last party. You were already exhausted after ten minutes of greeting people, and perhaps Frederik could sense this, because he squeezed your hand. “Doing all right?” he breathed, in between two old couples. The first had just asked you when you were planning on having children.

“Yes. You?”

“Oh yes,” he said, smiling.

The evening slipped by quicker than the last party, at least. After another fifteen minutes of greeting people and answering their ridiculous questions, however, you thought you might actually scream, and after whispering this to Frederik he quickly suggested you move along and get some drinks.

Still, tonight was easier.

It was easier because Frederik was now an ally and a friend, and that obviously made a world of difference.

Despite needing to be separated throughout most of the evening, Draco was in a much better mood, throwing you subtle winks across the room sometimes when you caught his eye, or giving you a small, playful smile. The night got progressively later and later, and you shared many dances with Frederik in order to avoid speaking to others. You just spun around with the prince, content to let him lead the steps (he was unnaturally good at dancing and, you strongly suspected, unnaturally good at everything).

You were just considering the exciting possibility of writing Draco a note to meet you in half an hour and slipping it to him. After all, as he had said, why not lean into the secret lovers thing a little?

But before you could think about it further, Theo appeared beside you and the prince, looking rather urgent.

“Could I borrow her for some dancing, Frederik?” he asked quickly.

You bit your lip to hold back your laugh at the way they were staring at each other; and then the moment broke, and the prince was nodding and clearing his throat, stepping away with a dashing smile. “Of course.”

Theo immediately took you right back into the steps that you had been following with Frederik. He seemed distracted—his eyes were fixed on something across the room. “Theo?” you questioned. “Are you going to tell me that important thing from earlier?”

“No,” he said, lifting you and spinning you as the song required and setting you down again, his eyes still fixated on the spot over your shoulder as he pulled you through steps. And even when you spun he turned his head, never letting whatever he was watching out his sight.

“I’m sorry we rushed off, okay?” you said. “But please, if it’s important—”

“It is. I’m going to show you,” explained Theo, giving you the briefest of smiles.

“Show me what? And what exactly do you keep looking at?” you demanded, thoroughly confused.

“You’ll see,” he said vaguely, eyes still flicking over your shoulder. “In a few moments, I think. For now let’s just say that I think I may have an opportunity for you to solve your problem.”

“More than the prince has solved it?” you asked. And then, grinning, you continued in a voice that was much too light and casual, “He’s _great_ , isn’t he? Frederik. Handsome, too.”

Theo’s eyes darted to yours; and then he rolled them, even though a small smile was playing across his lips. His gaze moved back to where it had been before, watching whatever it was he needed to watch. “Just out of curiosity,” he replied, his voice teasing, “Do you actually think you’re being subtle?”

You laughed. “Subtle? About that kind and attractive prince that is currently eyeballing you from across the room?”

“You’re turning into Pansy,” muttered Theo, but he was smiling rather smugly.

“Not even close,” you said, smiling. You were just about to press further on the issue of the prince because really, this matchmaking thing was quite fun; but Theo’s eyes suddenly blazed brighter, and his back straightened, watching something resolutely and very seriously. When you spun in the dance steps, you thought you saw that his gaze was following his father.

“You’re acting strange,” you told him.

“Any minute,” he breathed, clearly not listening to your complaint.

You waited, desperately wanting to know what in the world Theo was talking about, but then he suddenly stopped the dancing, took your hand, and began pulling you along, out of the room and in the direction of the door. He was pulling you as quickly as Draco had earlier, so that you had to hustle to keep up with his long legs.

“Theo, my heels aren’t so easy to run in like this—Merlin, I can’t go so fast, I’ll break a bloody ankle—come on, where are we going?” you demanded.

“Yes, Theo, where are you two going?” came Draco’s voice as he fell into step beside you, clearly having followed you from the party when he saw the rush.

“The library,” said Theo, focused determinedly on quickening his pace.

“Why?” you pressed, sharing a confused glance with Draco.

“There’s something you’ll want to see,” said Theo, though he then paused, wrinkling his nose. And then he amended, “Well, you won’t _want_ to see it, but it will be _helpful_ for you to see. And the faster we get there, the less unpleasantness you’ll see, so hurry up.“

You still practically had to jog to keep up with them; once further away from the noise and happening of the party in the ballroom, the large mansion was almost deathly quiet, and Draco slipped his hand into your other one. You were exhausted by the time you had crossed the Greengrass mansion to get to the gigantic library. You all came to a halt, and Theo, eyebrow arched, gestured to the doorway, inviting you to look inside.

It was then that you all heard a curious sound—a little scuffle.

It was faint, but no doubt coming from inside the library. You clung tighter to Draco’s hand and stepped forward to investigate. It didn’t take long to locate the source of the sound.

Peering around the door frame, you saw two men kissing wildly, fiercely, one of them backed against the wall and one of them ripping the shirt off of the other. You suddenly became so preoccupied with the mortified desire to flee—certain that Theo had made a mistake leading you here—that you almost didn’t see who the men were.

Almost.

But then you did, and there was a flash curiously like a camera coming from your left, where Theo was standing; and then you gasped out loud, causing the men to break apart and look over.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” your father spat, striding forward, as Theodore Nott Sr., Theo’s father, hurriedly hastened to button his shirt behind him, his eyes narrowed.

Even just holding onto his hand, you could feel Draco’s entire body tense, and before you knew it he was pulling on your hand, half-tucking you behind him. But you stepped out again, feeling a sudden spark of bravery and defiance. “I have that same question, interestingly,” you said coldly.

“Get your hands off my daughter,” your father growled suddenly to Draco. “Much as you tried, you couldn’t keep her away from my engagement.”

“Fuck you,” snapped Draco, very loudly and clearly.

“I’m not engaged,” you told your father.

Something was making your body tingle, a feeling that expanded in your chest and made you feel like you could do anything: it was power, you realized. Just like Pansy over Rita, you finally had power over your father, and you knew that you were going to use it.

“You little _bitch—”_

“Don’t call her that,” protested Draco very harshly.

“I’m not engaged _anymore_ ,” you corrected clearly, raising your voice over him. “Because you’re going to agree to my terms, Father. And if you don’t, I’ll tell mother about this.” You gestured between your father and Theodore Nott Sr. before throwing him a fierce, mocking smile. “I’ll tell _everyone_ that you’re having an affair.”

“What makes you think anyone will believe you?” your father taunted, but you had seen worry flash in his eyes.

You were threatening his way of life, his marriage, his social standing…

“This,” said Theo, waving a camera and giving him a sarcastic little smile.

Your father turned his eyes on Theo with eyes flashing. “You little fucker,” he hissed furiously.

“Don’t talk to my friends like that,” you said coldly. “You’re going to publicly break off my engagement tomorrow. After tonight I’ll be allowed to do whatever I please. You will not arrange my relationships anymore.“

Theodore Nott Sr. suddenly snorted loudly. “You insolent little shit,” he snapped. “You’re speaking to a superior as if you make the rules.”

Your eyes flashed at him. “I _am_ making my terms now,” you said simply. “And unless you want this affair to go public, I suggest that you accept them. And they also include leaving your son be.”

Theodore Nott Sr.’s mouth twisted in anger, glowering at Theo, who calmly handed you the camera with a little smirk at his father. You could feel Draco’s eyes scanning your face, and how he encouragingly squeezed your hand, but you didn’t tear your intent gaze away from your father’s.

Though you could see in his eyes that he knew he was defeated, you were still nervous, heart pounding erratically, waiting for what he would say…

“What am I supposed to tell your mother?” your father asked finally.

“Not my problem,” you told him. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. So, are we done here? Do you agree?”

“Yes,” he said, very bitterly. “Now get out of my sight.”

You didn’t waste any more time in pulling Draco and Theo from the room, and no one dared speak until you were well and far away from the library. When you all finally stopped, turning to face each other, you could see the victory that you felt blazing in their eyes as well.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Draco said finally, his face breaking into a grin, and then he gripped Theo’s shoulder tightly. “Theo, that was _genius_. How did you know?”

“Your father came over to our place two days ago, Y/N,” explained Theo grimly. “I happened to hear their conversation when he was leaving, and the way they were talking…it was obvious something was going on. It’s been happening a long time, I think.” He shuddered a little. “Anyway, I also heard their plans to briefly meet at this party, so I thought that Y/N could use it over her father.” And then he smiled gently at you. “I thought it might be nice for you to have a semblance of control, yes?”

“I’m free,” you said suddenly, feeling almost lightheaded with glee.

“You are. And that was _incredible_ ,” Draco told you hoarsely, still looking dazed. “The way you talked to him with the upper hand like that.”

“I don’t know where that confidence came from,” you admitted. “I suppose that I knew I had him trapped, thanks to Theo—” You shot your friend another grateful look, and he grinned. “And I felt so…electrified, you know? I felt like I had a choice, and I could finally take it.”

Draco gave you a long, lingering kiss. “I like that side of you,” he murmured.

You smiled. “I didn’t want to spring this on Frederik tonight, what with the public here and everything, but after…”

“After,” Draco agreed, nodding with his eyes twinkling. “Things can be normal.”

“As normal as they can be with our group, anyway,” added Theo, as the three of you began to make your way back to the ballroom.

You had news to share with the others; and for once, you thought happily, it was actually very good news indeed.

* * *

Seeing as you could now do as you pleased—something your father reminded you of with constant glares and dirty looks, before he would relent to your requests in a gruff mumble, confusing your mother greatly—you spent the first days of the New Year at Malfoy Manor.

Sometimes it was just you and Draco and Pansy, and sometimes the others (including Frederik, who was spending more and more time with the group and was even seriously considering a move to England) joined. You also got your alone time with your boyfriend, and for a few days you just enjoyed the bliss of being free from your parents’ tyranny. It was surreal, but something you knew you could definitely get used to.

You had decided specifically to wait a few days before going out in public with Draco, because according to Pansy, some of the readers of Witch Weekly—the ones that had organized themselves into a camp firmly in favor of your engagement to the prince and not Draco—were “upset” about the news that your engagement with Frederik had fallen through.

“They’re getting positively tribal,” Pansy had told you, and she seemed to have been greatly amused by all of it. "The other side—the loyalists, you could say—are firm believers that it was never fake, while the Frederick fans say that it was. The loyalists are feeling very smug right now, obviously.”

“Wait until we go out today,” Draco commented lightly, coming up to slip an arm around your waist. “And we need to get going, by the way. My mother just gave me a list of things to buy, and it is at _least_ two feet long. I think she’s been avoiding the public too, so now I get the pleasure of doing the shopping.”

All your Slytherin friends were together that day. Frederick had left for Denmark the day before, and though there were promises to return as soon as possible it had Theo in an uncharacteristically melancholy mood. And seeing as Pansy also wanted to go shopping, you had all decided to get out and about and go to Diagon Alley, to have a nice outing before returning to school.

And so you traveled by Floo to the Leaky Cauldron together, stepping out of the fireplace one by one and brushing yourselves off. None of the few people inside particularly seemed to care about the arrival of your group of friends, but you knew that wouldn’t last forever.

“Rita will leave us alone, but she’s not the entire press,” Daphne warned you gently, squeezing your hands.

“I don’t care anymore,” you told her, and you found that you truly didn’t.

“Good for you,” said Blaise, patting your shoulder and giving you one of his characteristically beautiful smiles.

The others began to move toward the exit, to head out to the snowy shopping street, but Draco held your hand a little tighter, lingering back for just a few moments longer. “They’re going to say all sorts of horrible things about us,” Draco said to you very softly, brushing hair from your face and giving you a small, affectionate smile, eyes searching your face with some concern.

“Let them,” you said, shrugging.

He kissed your knuckles, slowly and one by one, and then gave you a radiant smile. “I love you.”

And you smiled back, feeling that familiar ball of happiness in your chest. “I love you too.” You tilted your head toward the door with a questioning look on your face. “Shall we?”

He nodded, and together, you walked out of the shop and into the street to join the others, hand in hand.

Draco was beside you, and your friends were surrounding you.

You could face it all.

* * *

_**FIN** _

* * *


End file.
